


Blue Whisper

by LigeiaMaloy



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dirty Thoughts, Dog!, Drug Abuse, Explicit Language, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder, Nudity, Post-Canon, Robot/Human Relationships, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Some angst, Trauma, there might also be some angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-05-25 15:45:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14980364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LigeiaMaloy/pseuds/LigeiaMaloy
Summary: A few weeks have passed. Androids are officially recognized as an intelligent species and deserving of human rights and duties. Life begins to normalize but only slowly.Hank Anderson is having the worst time of his life. His growing friendship to Connor, Android Sent by CyberLife, came to halt when Connor joined Jericho. Hank has to deal with a new partner and with more than twice his usual workload - half of the Detroit City Police Department is out of order or town and in addition to homicides, he has now also to investigate crimes against androids.Change comes with challenges, something Hank embraces despite his growling but also something Connor has to learn.Maybe there are more than pragmatic reasons based on assumed efficiency for his return to the DCPD. But figuring out his new state of being is on the backburner. Androids are getting killed by what seems to be hate crimes. After all, changing right doesn't equal acceptance, as still too many humans - even in the police department - aren't shy to demonstrate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> New to the fandom, late to the party! 
> 
> I helplessly fell in love with the cutie vs jerk with a heart of gold trope, even more so as it's paired with lots of buddy cop fun. 
> 
> There'll be fun in this fic but also angst (just in case I forgot to mention it). I adore Connor, and therefore, he must suffer! 
> 
> Words of caution: I haven't seen 100% of the game yet, probably never will as I chicken out when it comes to the bad endings. I notice tons of vague and "because, plot!" explanations for details but of course I might just have missed something. I consult the wikia to keep as close to canon as possible as far as facts and details about android technology are concerned but I'll also tweak things if it makes more sense (or benefits my "because, plot!"). I try my best to avoid painful contradictions but I won't hesitate to excuse myself with "hey, I tagged it as canon divergent" ;)  
> If you catch me misspelling Connor's name, however, please let me know! I try my best but nobody's safe from typos, especially not me!
> 
> Also, yes, this is a Hank/Connor ship fic. There'll be romance and there might be explicit content. I'll update the tags once I get closer to it. 
> 
> Finally, I have [a new side blog dedicated to my love for sexy androids](https://bluewhispersandabsinthe.tumblr.com/) (obviously DBH centric for now). Feel free to check it out!

“Fucking androids.” Hank Anderson stood up after inspecting the broken- corpse? Body? Was it still right to say broken or should he upgrade to dead? If it wasn’t offensive to say _upgrade_ in this context.  
Fucking context. Things had shifted and confronted humanity with more changes it was comfortable with in this short amount of time. Only four weeks. Hank stood up, fumbling a cigarette from his pocket.

“Oh, the sweet, sweet irony.” Gavin Reed joined him on the porch before Hank had his first pull to fill his lungs with smoke. One bad habit increased after cutting back another. And damn, could he go for a whiskey. It wasn’t exactly like he was living healthier this way but at least, if it killed him, he wouldn’t vomit on the reaper’s robe once he came for him.

“Just a month ago, we hunted these stupid things down. And now they send us to investigate if they _die_.” Reed air-quoted the last word and spat on the ground, grimacing as if it took him all his willpower to not spit on the broken…dead…dysfunctional android. “Nobody sent no one when my TV broke.”

Yeah. Good old good-for-nothing Gavin Reed. At least some things never changed. Who knew if that was a good thing or a bad thing or just some people having a harder time to adapt than others. Hank dragged again on his cigarette, a curtain of shaggy, gray hair hiding his humorless grin. He wasn’t an expert on computers and all that damn crap but if they ever developed a technology to reprogram fucking assholes into decent human beings with a punch to the face, he’d sign up for a course yesterday.

“World’s changing, Reed.” Nicotine deepened Hank's already gravelling voice.

“Don’t say. And not for the better.”

“Had been worse.” And that had turned out to be a close call. The media was contradicting itself with the numbers, but if the camps had stayed open one day longer, they’d have written some ugly history. His conscience squirmed at the thought. A part of him was still uncomfortable to compare what had happened to the androids to the genocides of countless innocent human beings in humanity’s past, sentient or not. Accepting was one thing but four weeks was a damn short time to let it all sink in.

“Things are how they are now and we gotta roll with it. Just make sure not to crash into a wall.” Or to get slammed into one. Hank took a long last pull and flipped the stump of his cig into a puddle. He walked back inside, his partner on his heels.

“What the hell, Fowler, I don’t need a partner!” Monday morning three weeks ago, Hank had been convinced some nasty bastard of prank fucking time traveling had catapulted him right into a déjà-vu. He was fuming in his boss’ office, slamming his hands on Fowler’s desk.

“I work alone! Also, I already have a partner!” Fuck contradictions, fuck Reed who stood behind him with this fucking shit-eating grin on his face. The déjà-vu ended with Fowler’s tired sigh.

“I’m not even wasting any energy on asking why the hell you’re suddenly so fond of that android.” Fowler rubbed his temples, giving Hank a cold stare instead of the usual short-tempered outbursts. “And I honestly don’t give a damn. Fact is, with the recent restructuring of CyberLife, they don’t control it anymore and it has never been an official registered, uh…” He helplessly waved his hand as he tried to come up with the fitting word. “Whatever would make it a part of the DCPD. It was a collaboration and it’s over. The point is, Hank, the recent investigation proved you work better with a partner and it’s not available for that position anymore.”

As if Hank needed to be told. That fucking android. That fucking Connor! He had been convinced they had a moment after the liberation of the androids as a new sentient species. But with madness following victory, he should have expected neither of them would have time for a nice, relaxing buddy cop comedy. Connor left for Jericho, where he felt needed, and Hank returned to the leftovers of his life where he- well, Sumo needed someone to open his dog food and regular scratches behind the ears, that was something.

“Don’t say it.” Fowler held up his hand, stopping Hank as he opened his mouth to tell him that one thing nobody needed was fucking Gavin Reed as a partner. “Don’t make it harder than it already is, Hank. Do you think I enjoy running this damn office with half of the staff gone? Fleeing the fucking city when we’re needed most? Fact is, your partner is gone, Gavin’s partner is gone. I'm sorry but you're a perfect match.”

“Yeah, yeah, things suck, but why do you have to punish me for this place going to hell?”

“I’m gonna punish your sorry ass if you keep giving me hell for running this shithole. And let’s not forget, you’re lucky things look this bleak or I’d have locked you up in a cell instead of reinstalling you after you punched Perkins! Deal with it or hand over your badge! And now get out of my office, both of you!”

Hank shook his head as the repeat of the assignment of a new partner came to full closure. From there, everything went downhill. Connor had been a pest but fun to mess with. The occasional confusion on his pretty-boy face when his programming clashed with the real world had been amusing, almost cute.

There was nothing cute or amusing about Reed, this rude, overambitious prick. That their first call had led them to the first reported homicide… androidcide… murder of an android didn’t help the situation.

“Well.” Reed stood next to him, also staring down at the motionless android. “Looks like an accident to me. It stumbled,” Reed pointed at the staircase leading to the first floor, “fell, and knocked itself into nirvana when its head hit the floor. Case closed. I’ll even volunteer to do the paperwork on this one.”

“Humpf.” An undefined grunt replaced a spontaneous reconstruction of Reed’s nose with his fist. Hank didn’t really have anything to argue, it was the smug indifference to the victim paired with his general dislike for Gavin, plus the whole upturning of his world over the last few weeks. Hands stuffed into his pockets, his fingers played with the coin he had snatched away from Connor.

That damn android had been onto something with that stupid thing. Flipping it around was calming and helped Hank focus. Sure, it’d take another lifetime until he could match the tricks the nimble fingers of an android could do with that thing but… and exactly this was the problem!

He had no clue to which line the android to his feet belonged. He was wearing casual, slightly too big clothes, probably taken from the wardrobe of the previous owner of the house. There were no signs of a fight, no blood, and luckily, no other corpses and Hank had concluded the owners of this place abandoned it when things shifted towards Jericho's side, and this guy here was either abandoned as well or moved in once the house was deserted.  
Without the from CyberLife distributed uniforms, Hank had no idea what the victim’s initial purpose used to be. Didn’t look like it was built to be a heavy lifter. Pleasant, non-threatening face, not uncanny, not ugly, not too handsome. Slim, like Connor, who seemed to be constructed for speed and flexibility rather than hauling around heavy gear or throwing bone-crushing punches.

Hank suspected this used to be one of the housekeeper lines and the immaculate state of this place confirmed his opinion. His finger ran over one of the higher boards of the closest bookshelf. No dust. Plants looking good, framed pictures and souvenirs from foreign countries in order. Probably more so than when humans still lived here.

“Damn place looks like it jumped out of a real estate commercial.” Muttering to himself, he stepped over the android, towards the stairs, his hand clenching the coin. Androids were perfectionists. They didn’t just stumble over their own feet without a damn good reason and dusting a damn fake ficus wasn’t one.

Yet, the android didn’t show any sign of fight or struggle. The clothes were clean, the skin intact, not even flickering from any damages… injuries, or whatever. Hank never thought he’d say this but for once he’d be grateful for a damn rulebook and if it was only to not fuck future reports up with the wrong terminology. He was too old to rewrite the same thing over and over again like a school kid with too many mistakes in their homework.

The first floor was disappointingly clean and tidy as well.

“DCPD! Anybody in here, hands where I can see them!” He grabbed his gun, just in case, and kicked one of the doors open. “Sheesh.” He doubted his own bathroom had looked this nice and sparkly even when it was new. No stains, no hairs, no quivering suspect with the hands in the air stuttering “Yes, I did it.”.

Master bedroom, kid’s room, the same. No speck of dust, all sheets in place, nothing on the floor. Hank snorted. Maybe his ex was right, he should get himself an android to help him keeping at least his home in order. Or rather, hire one to come over once in a while, if there were still some who didn’t mind working with or for humans as long as they were fairly paid. Whatever someone who didn’t need food or care for good booze would consider fair. He should give this Markus guy a call one day.

Repeating his introduction, he opened the next door, revealing a narrow guest room.

“Now, would you look at that. Things just got interesting. REED!” He yelled over his shoulder, putting his gun away. “Move your damn ass up here!” With a grim smirk, he looked at the tiny blue blotches covering the white wallpaper and the fine glass splinters on the carpet. Good thing Reed already offered to take care of writing the report of this case.

*

Hank allowed himself a smirk when his hand hovered above the red X on the screen. And- rejected.

“Oh, come on!” Across him, Reed threw his hands towards the ceiling, stopping himself from slamming his fist on his desk and running his fingers through his short hair instead. “Are you kidding me, Hank? Suddenly, I can’t call _a thing_ a thing anymore? I have to rewrite this bitch the fourth time because of that? Are you doing this on purpose or something?”

“Well. You gotta enjoy the little things.” Satisfied with himself, Hank hid his widening grin behind his coffee mug. He wasn’t nitpicking Reed’s report on purpose but he didn’t go out of his way to make it easier for him either. _Act like an ass, get treated like an ass, easy as that._

“Hey, hey, Fowler!” He put his mug down and waved at his boss as he walked by. “Any news from forensics?”

“No, and no, for the twentieth time, I’m not gonna call them to tell them to work faster, Hank.” Captain Fowler only slowed down his speed, not even bothering to get closer to Hank’s desk.

“Hey, just trying to do my work here!”

“Try harder!” Fowler turned his back to him and disappeared in his office, slamming his door shut with a clear ‘and don’t you dare to follow me’ message.

“He’s lucky I’m not an android or I’d go after him anyway.” Chuckling to himself, he turned focused on the pictures on his screen. He didn’t find any pattern in the arrangement of the blue blotches in the victim’s guest room - technically, a Mr and Misses Alcott’s guest room but they had yet to find their new contact info. He zoomed out, placing the shot next to the one of the opposite wall. Nope, nothing. Reluctantly, he had to let go of his hope to find a secret message written in android blood. Too bad. Even if he and Connor couldn’t make sense of the whole RA9 thing at first, it had at least been something.

“What if there’d been a second android?” He stroked his beard. Blood on the walls but no blood on the victim. This meant if it wasn’t the victim’s blood it had to belong to somebody else. Hank growled at his computer. He was always in favor of the Occam’s Razor method of assumption but what was the most obvious conclusion here? Before he had seen the guest room, he’d have had to admit Reed’s accident theory to be the most obvious, liked it or not. Only their find upstairs confirmed his hunch of something being off.

What now? A second android pushing the victim? A second android being the victim and their victim being an accident after all?

“Was this a damn ritual? A lover’s quarrel? Summoning some android demon?”

“If there are android angels and android demons in Heaven and Hell I’m gonna be an atheist,” Reed muttered, still working through his report.

“Make sure there are no typos either!” Hank barked, still frowning at the pictures he had taken. Fucking forensics. Like most departments, theirs was chronically understaffed these days but how hard could it be to analyze some blood samples and to examine a dead android? On the other hand, what did he know about analyzing this thirium stuff? It wasn’t like they could just lick it to get all the answers. Hank chuckled. Jesus, the days with Connor had been a ride. Fuck Jericho, they had an army, they didn’t need Connor. He needed him here to solve this damn riddle.

“And what’s with all that glass anyway? There weren’t any cuts on the victim. Or wait, they can heal minor wounds, can’t they? But how fast? Wait, if we figure that out, we could calculate the minimum time between the blood splutters and the fall!” Sudden excitement took over. This job was hell, his life was hell, but it was about time he lived up to his former days of fame and glory as an outstanding investigator prodigy! “Reed!”

Reed jerked up his head, looking relieved to tear his eyes away from the report for a moment. Then he frowned. “Oh, fuck this shit.”

“Lieutenant. You’re overlooking one obvious clue,” a voice spoke behind Hank. A clear, precise, all too familiar voice.

“Fuck indeed.” Slowly, Hank turned around, a knowing smile on his face.

“Connor, you damn bastard!”

“Yes, Lieutenant, if you allow me to skip the explanation why ‘bastard’ cannot apply to me.” Connor stood straight, his hands folded behind his back, his face ever so eager and serious. He was still wearing his uniform which identified him from afar as an android. No tear, no wear, even the tie was perfectly in place. It was almost like the day he walked into Jimmy’s bar to inform Hank of his new case. And new partner. Yet, something changed. It was his eyes. They weren’t dead before, doing a decent job at imitating liveliness but now, they were now brimming with life and willpower. The real thing.

“Permission granted. Go on.” Hank leaned back in his chair, waving generously at the android. “No, wait!” He stopped him when Connor was about to speak again. “First things first.” Hank stood up, closed the distance between them and put a hand on Connor’s shoulder.

“May I assume you’re not unhappy to see me?”

Hank chuckled. This fucking smile! Then he pulled him into a hug, patting his back.

“Fucking android! What were you thinking, disappearing without sending one message and waltzing in here like you own this godforsaken place, all out of the blue?” He jerked around. “Reed! Get your ass moving.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Lieutenant. It’s not my intention to interrupt Detective Reed’s work. I can sit here.” Without looking at Reed’s irritated face, the android shoved a pile of papers aside and sat down on Hank’s desk, in a comfortable, leisure pose any human would take. Hank returned to his chair, grabbing his mug. The coffee was cold and watery but he needed something to hold on to or he’d grin like an idiot who was far too happy to see a guy again who he had known only for a few days. But reason might say what it wanted, witnessing a machine with a programmed purpose to take one step after another towards the humanity slumbering inside of him was a big deal to bond over.

“Well, Connor.” Hank put on his serious don’t-waste-my-time-with-bullshit-face as he nodded. “Bring me into the loop. The short version, please.” He wasn’t in his twenties anymore but he sure wasn’t that old that he had three mugs of whiskey instead of coffee the last two hours, was he? Connor was one damn annoying, aggravating, nerve-wreaking nuisance that came into his life and the most interesting and fascinating changes in years. Then he took off to wherever this Markus needed him and now he was back. Just like that. _Hank, old buddy, you sure you didn’t pass out drunk on the floor at home?_ Nobody would be less surprised at him if this was just another hallucination caused by alcohol poisoning.

“Of course, Lieutenant.” Connor tilted his head. “The diplomatic negotiations are in the hands of Markus and his closest advisers. The others have begun to form groups of their own interests. The services of a former deviant hunter and negotiator didn’t offer any crucial benefits to the situation. I concluded I would be of more use here, at an intersection point between human and androids on a less political level.”

“Uh-hu. A less political level, you say.” Hank nodded along. The words made sense and he was wary to read too much into Connor’s smoothly delivered speech but his spine tingled, the indicator of a hunch forming. In any other circumstanced, he’d been convinced by that alone something was off but then again, Connor was new to this whole self-awareness-business. He’d have to cut him some slack if his words, sound, and movements weren’t perfectly aligned in a natural way yet.

“A less political level,” Reed repeated, imitating Connor’s concise intonation pattern. He shoved back his chair and stood up. “Our Duracell Ken graciously offers its downloaded wisdom to the less intellectually gifted, that’s what it really wants to say. Fuck this shit, I’m getting coffee. And no, I don’t get you any.” He snatched his mug from the desk and strode in the direction of the office kitchen, shortly stopping when he stood next to Connor. Faces inches apart, he stared at him from cold, angry eyes. “And I’m certainly not turning myself into the servant of this caricature of a human.” Reed sneered in disgust and was on his way.

“I once read sporadic constant factors offer humans comfort.” Connor looked down, shaking slightly his head. “I can’t say I see the appeal.”

“I’d put it in less fancy words but yes, Gavin Reed is still the same old asshole and the only one happy about it is Gavin Reed. Don’t let him get to you, Connor.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Lieutenant. I merely observe the different facets of human behavior.”

“Is that so. Well, I won’t stop you. Anything else that doesn’t escape your observations?” Hank had made some observations of his own during Reed’s short scene. Gavin would never change but the same couldn’t be said for Connor. It was subtle, almost not noticeable if one didn’t know what they were looking for. But it was there, a faint twitch of the corner of his mouth, his fingers almost digging into the fabric of his pants. His back slightly arching back from Reed’s charming words of welcome. A shadow of confusion and hurt falling over his face and disappearing before Reed could take advantage of it.

Hank had had his suspicion before, since the second day of their forced partnership, that Connor did not like to be treated with open hostility. Whether it was a consequence of his programming before Hank had no idea but there was no doubt about it now; groundless verbal attacks against him and who he was hurt him and he wasn’t indifferent to that hurt as well. _Poor kid. Guess you all gotta start somewhere but starting on the ugly end of the spectrum of human emotions sucks._

“I actually did. That’s why I spoke up. I apologize for interrupting your musings, Lieutenant, but as I stated, you overlooked one obvious clue. If I may?” He pointed at the screen with the pictures of the guest room still open.

“Be my guest.” Hank gestured him to come closer, moving aside to give him more room.

“Thank you. A vital property of thirium is that it becomes invisible to the human eye after being exposed to oxygen. It is still possible that the victim is covered in blue blood.”

“Fuck me!” Hank groaned, slapping his forehead. “Of course! You told me when we investigated that motherfucker Ortiz! And because you can still see it, we solved some of the cases in the first place! Thanks for not rubbing it in by the way. Fuck, I’m getting old.” He certainly felt old. It was the obvious clue, right in front of him. Time and drinking had turned his brain into a dried up sponge. Hang sighed. Maybe it was time to retire, a tempting thought if it was still a two or three months ago. But damn, it was just getting interesting again.

“You’re not old, Lieutenant Anderson. This knowledge is a crucial part of my training and my very existence. If we were talking about an equivalent of human blood, you’d have noticed it at the crime scene.” There was a faint, hardly noticeable softness in Connor’s voice that made Hank turn his head, but the android was staring at the screen. Hank smiled. He was starting to like this reformed self of Connor or however it should be called if it included unintentional compliments.

“Appreciated. Thanks, boy.” He looked back at the pictures, pointing at one of the blue-splattered walls. “This means this can’t be thirium. We aren’t sure yet how long the victim has been dysfunct- dead but certainly long enough for the blue to fade.”

“Yes and no. You’re right, it should have faded but it does look like thirium. Which doesn’t make sense.” Connor moved away and sat down on his spot on the desk. “Judging from a picture taken with a device adjusted to the human eye, it looks like it but I suggest I investigate the crime scene myself. It’s likely I notice something you and the detective missed. No offense, Lieutenant.” He raised his hand and was for one moment the pragmatic, full-offense Connor who dragged Hank out of Jimmy’s bar, Hank had to bit his tongue to not laugh out loud.

“Do I really have to watch you licking a fucking wall or have you evolved past your blood-tasting habit?”

“It’s not a habit, Lieutenant, it’s technology. I admit, given what I’ve learned about humans since our first encounter, that my creator’s choice of implementing this feature appears questionable.”

“So it appears.” Hank looked back at the pictures, then at the clock at the bottom of the screen. Talking about Jimmy’s bar, it’d open in half an hour and have a cold one with his name on it waiting. “Forensics should be wrapping things up soon there and give us whatever they’ve found some time tonight. We could go there tomorrow first thing in the morning, with the new intel and when nobody’s in the way. Until then, why not celebrate your return from the dead with a drink. My treat.” He liked the idea of having a chat with Connor about anything but work, another reason why he didn’t abandon his dried-up-sponge-brain theory yet.

“I appreciate the offer.” Connor stiffened slightly but showed one of his odd little smiles. They were different than the calculated ones dictated by his social adapting programming, as if his face wanted nothing more but smile but was still insecure about how to do it. Hank damned himself for the thought but it was kinda cute. “While I’d enjoy watching you enjoying a drink, I want to focus on the recent changes. There’s something urgent I have to discuss with Captain Fowler and I plan to visit the crime scene right after that. If you don’t mind.” He closed with a polite, still somewhat tensioned bow.

“Oh, no, sure, go ahead, do your thing.” Hank shrugged, too old to give himself any not-that-I-care-bullshit but his night didn’t depend on Connor’s company. He just hoped he wouldn’t disappear without a warning before they had an opportunity to catch up. “Mind telling me what’s so important to pester Fowler about? Guy’s in a shitty mood lately. Shittier than usual.” A mild understatement. Compared to Fowler ’s temper these days, his usual outbursts were a gentle breeze on a fucking summer day.

“Of course.” Connor relaxed. “As I mentioned before, I concluded my skills would be more helpful to the DCPD. I’m going to suggest my reinstallment as your assistant to support you in android-related cases. I assume even as my days as a deviant hunter are over, my knowledge about my kind as well as my negotiation skills might be beneficial to your work.”

“As my assistant, eh?” Hank stroke over his beard, his mouth twitching into a grin. He was beginning to like the dried-up sponge in his head, or the whiskey coma or whatever was responsible for this hallucination if it turned out this wasn’t reality after all.

“I’m sorry, I should have consulted you first. Do you… have any objections, Lieutenant Anderson?” For a brief second, Connor was stroking over his hairless chin, as if he was unintentionally mimicking Hank. When he quickly removed his hand and put it flat on his leg Hank was convinced it really was unintentional. He had also caught the hesitation in Connor’s voice. It was for one split of a second but damn if it didn’t sound like one insecure split of a second. This was almost adorable.

“No, no. After working with this prick, anyone is an upgrade.” He pointed at Reed’s empty seat that hopefully would be again Connor’s by Hank’s next shift. “I mean, shit, anyone is better, you know, uh-”

“It’s okay, Lieutenant.” Connor slid from the desk, putting a hand on Hank’s shoulder, not much unlike Hank had done with him before. “I don’t take offense. Technical terminology doesn’t have to change, nor is there any reason to avoid the fact of me being an android. We might have evolved but we still are what we are. At least,” he added after a short pause, lowering his voice, “that’s how I see it.”

“And with that, you’re smarter than most of us humans.” Hank patted the slim hand before he gently brushed it off. “Now go and face the manticore’s wrath. Just don’t take it personally and all will be fine.”

“I won’t. Thank you.”

“Tell him partnering you up with me means reports written by you!” Hank called after him when Connor was already halfway across the room. “That should convince him and Reed!”

Connor looked back at him with raised eyebrows. “Convincing Detective Reed of anything is not among my priorities, Lieutenant Anderson.” With that, he turned around and knocked at Fowler’s door, opening it at the prompt answer.

“Not my priority, my ass.” Hank laughed to himself. “Gotten snarky, eh?” It had been fun to mess with Connor in the past, tickling his weird android brain until something close to a genuine human emotion fell out. After what he had seen in the last minutes, he was going to have a blast in the future.

He shut down his computer and grabbed his jacket and keys. He walked slower as he passed Fowler’s glass cage but it was impossible to read what was going on between his boss and his former android assistant. Well, that meant it wasn’t going worse than usual. Whistling, he left the building, for the first time in years looking forward to tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is too long!
> 
> I'll go easier on the world-establishing next time, promised :)
> 
> (just finished and ran it through a grammar editor which I hope never becomes sentient. Will probably find a million typos and mix-ups later but right now, I'm too impatient, sorry!)

“And I said, this is a crime scene. No admittance for civilians! And whatever you are!” A skinny man in the uniform identifying him as part of the forensic team puffed himself up as if he was ready to fight Connor if he dared to take one step closer to the front door. Connor ran a quick scan. John Barowski, 42, working for the DCPD since June 2028, no crimes, no disciplinary actions, personal details classified, access denied.

“I’m sorry but I have to repeat myself.” Connor gave a polite nod. He kept his voice calm. Aggression was unwise, as was speaking too slowly, as it could be taken as an insult towards the man’s intelligence. “I work for the DCPD. Captain Fowler-”

“Listen, as far as I care, the government recognizing you as some kind of fancy new species only means I’d get in trouble for putting a bullet in your head. Doesn’t mean I have to give a fuck about androids or to share my workplace with one. And certainly not with a plastic twink like you!” Barowski spat the last words, now blocking the door with his arm.

“Plastic…twink?” That was new. Asshole, prick, piece of shit, he had grown familiar with these terms quickly after he left CyberLife for the first time. A search of the to him accessible data banks confronted him with a warning but before he could confirm he wished to proceed, a woman in the same uniform as Barowski caught his attention. Lydia Hauser, 46, another clean record.

“Let it go, Johnny.” She put a hand on her co-worker’s arm and gently pushed it down. “I called the office. Fowler confirmed his story. Looks like this guy is the intern of the new Android Special Unit department. Hi. Nice working with you.” She smiled at Connor, greeting him with a tired nod. “And before I forget, Fowler wanted me to tell you if he gets one more call over shit like this he’ll personally make sure homicide isn’t going out of work.”

“Whatever.” Barowski shrugged her off and stomped back into the Alcott house. “I’m outta here. We’re done anyway.”

“Right. And we’ll send our report to Lieutenant Anderson asap.” She stepped aside to let Conner walk past her. Barowski muttered to himself, picking up his equipment. Hauser gave him an exhausted smile and turned back to Connor. “As you can see, there’s the dead android. We’ve found traces of thirium on its hands, arms, and shirt. We can’t tell yet what’s up with the blue blood upstairs until another hour or two in the lab. We weren’t given material or briefings about the in and outs of android anatomy yet, I’m afraid.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose, her eyes closed for a moment, a gesture Connor recognized as a sign of an approaching headache. Or of being done with all this shit, as he had learned from Hank Anderson.

“Don’t worry, Miss Hauser. I’m…knowledgeable in matters of androids, that’s why I’m here.” He blinked a few times, looking away from her. One hour and forty-eight minutes before he had assured Lieutenant Anderson there was no reason to avoid technical terminology when androids were concerned. Yet, he suddenly was unable to say the word programmed when relating to himself. This was happening more frequently lately. North assured him this was nothing to worry about, this what would naturally happen once he began giving his own meanings to words. He was neither convinced this was a good thing nor that it wasn’t a system malfunction after all. He had been sure had shut down the Amanda partition for good but what if…

“Let’s go, Lydia. I’m dying for a cuppa. My treat if you let us take a detour to anywhere that’s not the lab’s shitty vending machine.” Barowski shot a disdainful glance at Connor as if he was making him responsible for the poor coffee situation at his workplace. Connor raised an eyebrow in mild alert. The last time someone ordered him to get some coffee ended with Gavin Reed punching him dangerously close to his thirium regulator.

“You had me at my treat.” Hauser threw her bag over her shoulder, dismissing Connor with a wave of her hand. “Good luck, robo boy. Let us know if you found anything of interest.”

“Yes, Miss Hauser.” Hands folded behind his back, he waited politely until the pair left the building. Robo boy. He didn’t detect malice in her voice, only tired indifference, and he was considering to categorize the remark as an attempt at a joke. Rubbing his arm, he stared at the closed door. Although she wasn’t hostile he wasn’t sure he liked to be addressed like that. He pulled up the memory of their interaction. Yes, he could even say she was one of the first to treat him professionally, not a friend, but a co-worker she had to deal with, and her remark could qualify as the so-called workplace banter, something humans seemed to be extremely fond of to keep the atmosphere relaxed.

Maybe this was an opportunity to apply _in_ dubio _pro_ reo, another concept humans liked when they didn’t come to a final conclusion about a person’s actions or motives. He shook his head. He had expected categorizing her words as non-hostile would make him indifferent towards them but he still didn’t like it. He had a name. And maybe one of the reasons why he stopped bothering about Hank Anderson’s less flattering names for him was that he was the first - and only - human calling him by his name.

He also didn’t like how he was wasting valuable time on dwelling over the insignificant issue of how not being called by his name was an issue to him in the first place.

He knelt down next to the dead android, quickly scanning him. A PL600, male edition. “I hope you were free.” Not knowing what he wanted to achieve, he gently touched the android’s shoulder. If this PL600 had a name they’d probably never know it unless they managed to locate the owners. Of the house. Not of this android.

“You really took good care of this place.” He looked around, confirming what he had read in Anderson’s report. He updated the information about the android - domestic assistant - for Anderson to add later. A second scan revealed what Hauser had told him. Thin lines of dried thirium covered the android's arm and fingers. The stains on the shirt looked like he tried to wipe them off. Small cuts might have caused the thirium leaks but their bodies were able to repair minor injuries within less than two hours, give or take, depending on the model. A thin thread of blue blood had been running out of the victim’s mouth and dried on his skin. He could tell from looking at it that this was from a more recent injury but he wouldn’t know the details unless he analyzed it.

He scraped off a small amount from the victim’s chin, coloring his fingertips blue. Raising his fingers to his mouth, he almost expected Hank Anderson’s voice shouting at him, telling him how disgusting he was. _Disgusting_. That was more unpleasant than being called a prick or plastic jerk. He wasn’t angry at his partner, he understood what caused this strong aversion and that the reaction was aimed towards a design decision Connor had no control over. But…

 _Sorry, Lieutenant. I can’t help being what I am._ Despite being alone, he gave his fingers a hasty lick and hurried to wipe them on his pants.

Serial number #412 856 237, Owner: Louis Alcott. Thirium leakage: four days ago. Cause of shutdown: Unknown.

Connor frowned. A damaged thirium regulator or heart would have released the information of the approaching shutdown into the circulatory system. With these ruled out and no signs of outside forces like fire, it would be difficult to tell what exactly happened in the victim’s body. Only CyberLife had the capacities and knowledge of dismantling and dissecting androids. It would take a while to educate human coroners for this task.

Or they had to employ more androids. A faint smile appeared on his face. There were places for people like him, there was a need for them, and if it was only to keep each other alive.

“Is that the reason why you stayed after the humans left? You thought this place needed you?” He leaned over the android and reached for his chin, forcing the jaws open. More dried thirium but that was all he could see. He moved closer, taking a sniff. No, nothing but old blue blood. No acid. At least none that was still traceable by his sensors.

“Who hurt you?” He agreed with Anderson, it was unlikely the cause of the shutdown was an accident. Androids didn’t trip and fall down stairs without a reason. He picked up one of the arms and shoved the shirt up as far as possible without tearing the fabric. Nothing. He turned it, inspecting it from all sides the joints allowed. He put it down and turned the attention to the stomach. He pushed the shirt up and deactivated the skin covering the abdominal hatch. He noted that until he touched the victim, there were no signs of damaged skin elsewhere. He removed the hatch, looking closely at the web of cables and tubes.

Dark. The word abyss came to Connor’s mind. No noise, no pulsating, no lights. A shutdown was final and the last energy reserves died days ago. No chance of revival, not even for a few minutes to probe the memories of his last moments.

Death. Connor sat back, his hands clenched to fists. That was what he was staring at it. Androids. Smart. Skilled. Built to last longer than a century. And then what? A pile of useless wires and plastic, that was all that was left of them.

He glanced at the android’s face. Pleasant features, blond hair. Like all PL600. Like the one on the roof. This one here, he looked relaxed, as if he had found peace in indifference.

“But that’s not how it is!” Connor slammed the hatch shut, his fingers scratching over the plastic layer. He hunched over the android, eyes wide but for a moment, the connection between his optical unit and his electronic brain was blocked by the noise of a gunshot. A word. Jericho. Then, crumbling echoes of memories and hopes desperately clung to a cosmos fading into nothingness.

Connor jumped up and staggered away from the dead android until his back hit the fireplace behind him. “This is not how it is!” he yelled at the motionless face as his vision returned. “No, no, this is ridiculous.” He jerked up his head, focusing on the white ceiling. White. Smooth. Unmoved. “Why can’t I be just broken?” An error in his old programming, an obsolete algorithm, contradicting code could be fixed even if he had to go back to CyberLife! He closed his eyes, forcing the image of the ceiling over the memory of the android’s face. Yes, this was better.

“Well, there is nothing else I can do here. It’s time I turn my attention to the guest room. I might find the answers there.” His voice was thin at first but became steadier as he kept talking to himself. He adjusted his tie and smoothened his jacket. Without looking down, he stepped over the victim and rushed up the stairs.

The room was exactly as Connor remembered the pictures on Anderson’s computer. The forensic team hadn’t left any visible changes, proofing they either worked with utmost efficiency or not efficiently at all. The splatter on the wall and bed didn’t tell him anything new. There was no hidden pattern he could make out. It didn’t even match the supposed locations of previous cuts on the victim’s skin.

“It certainly looks like thirium,” he stated to himself. “But as I said, if it was, it wouldn’t have been visible for days.” It was pointless to put what he knew into words but he liked how his voice filled the small room. The house was devoid of life with the owner gone and the caretaker dead. Hearing himself speak was fascinatingly comforting, especially after the unpleasant moment downstairs.

Ceiling. The same white ceiling like in the living room. Even there, he could see single dried drops of blood. Yes. He had to focus. The investigation of the living room was completed for now. Allowing his mind to return to the victim’s face was a waste of time. Of course, talking to himself wasn’t as effective as talking to a partner. Hank Anderson was a great partner for these conversations. His mind was astonishing how it reached conclusions despite - or because of irrational leaps and emotion-driven decisions. Maybe he should have joined him after his talk with Captain Fowler. Connor could have bought him another drink to acknowledge his new position and they could have investigated the scene together in the morning. No. That would have delayed the investigation for no rational reason.

“I can do this!” Eyes still glued to the ceiling, he took a step forward. Glass crunched under his sole. “Oh.” He had forgotten about that. No, no, he didn’t forget things. He had put it too far down on his priorities. He knelt down and let his fingers wander over the carpet. Tiny, thin. He picked up a larger one that was still smaller than a fingernail. He had to be careful not to cut himself as he turned it.

He narrowed his eyes. There was the faintest glimmer of blue at one of the edges but even to his eyes, it was hard to tell if it was a substance or a trick of the light. He put the shard in his pocket. Although he suspected Barowski and Hauser doing a good job and having picked up enough samples for their laboratory, he wanted to make sure a potential clue wasn’t overlooked. Other than that, the glass didn't offer much information. Given the shape of the bigger pieces, he suspected they belonged to small containers, maybe half as long as a finger, maybe small, medical vials. If the assumption was correct, the number of shards would make up for approximately fourteen vials. He’d share his conclusions with Anderson tomorrow.

The really interesting part was waiting for him. Connor walked up to the bed. The wall behind it was covered with the largest number of stains. They were small; superficial cuts would lose such small amounts of blood.

“But it can’t be thirium.” He bent closer, fingers running over the wallpaper. Smooth. Thirium was thicker, it would be palpable. He scratched a small amount from the wall. It covered his fingertips like blue powder. If this was android blood, humans wouldn’t be able to see it in this state with the naked eye. He moved his fingers to his lips.

His spine stiffened the second his tongue touched the powder. “No!” His voice was thin and hollow but those in his head, those he hadn’t been aware of being there, died. The wall in front of him was gone and all he saw was a storm of white lightning. “Hank!” He reached out, hands clawing the cover of the bed - he had sunken to his knees. He coughed, heaving. Acid! Was all he could think as his body convulsed in vain attempts to escape the burning taste on his tongue.

 _Somebody help me._ His voice was gone. The world was spinning in silence. But he felt. His heart was pumping. His thirium regulator pulsated. Blood crawled through the artificial veins in his body. He felt it all.

It was sickening.

*

“Morning, Hank. So early?”

“Morning.” Hank half-heartedly raised his hand, his mouth filling with coffee before he finished the greeting. So early, yeah, fuck his life. He had stayed at Jimmy’s longer than planned and when he got home, he had to walk his dog before he could finally fall into his bed. The night had been too short and he’d need more than one cup of thin office coffee to shut up his hangover. Who was buying these cheap beans anyway? What a world were they living in where they shot people into space and created artificial, sentient images of themselves, but kept producing shitty coffee?

“Morning, Hank. Man, you’re-”

“Early, don’t remind me,” he interrupted Officer Miller. “Anything of interest happened yet? Wait!” Hank sat down in his chair and poured half of the luke-warm coffee into his mouth. “There, better. And?”

“Not much.” Miller shrugged. “A bachelor party at the Eden Club got out of control. Alcohol and Red Ice. Brown and I broke things up before it got really ugly.”

“People throw bachelor parties these days?” Hank’s eyes widened in surprise and took another sip of coffee. “Never mind that, the Eden Club’s still open? I know as long as humanity hasn’t made its last breath, there’ll always be a need for food and fucking. But who does the fucking there?”

“That was really weird.” Miller rolled closer with his chair, scratching the back of his head. “Mills, the manager, wasn’t all too eager to give some answers. But it looks like a few androids stayed, and I saw two or three human women. Either he has to make do because everyone else ran out on him.”

“And who’d blame them.” Hank thought back to their investigation at the first sex club chain only offering android hostesses and hosts. He’d seen his fair share of ugly practices in human-oriented red light districts and that was although the laws and regulation for guaranteeing the safety of sex workers had improved over the last decade. He didn’t want to know what androids, unprotected by the law until a few weeks ago, had to endure and he doubted the dead Traci they had found was the first. It was only the first time an abusive client didn’t survive their perverted games.

“I wouldn’t.” Miller nodded eagerly. Hank liked this guy. Chris Miller was young and his ambitious nature was evened out by a good heart. A bit soft at times but experience would handle that. He was one of the few humans around Hank who weren’t hostile towards androids and he was one of the first to feel empathy for their cause. Even before Hank, as he had to admit. Damn, a shame hadn’t been teamed up with Miller the last three weeks.

“And I don’t get why anyone would want to stick their dick into a plastic tube with a wig on top.”

Hank grunted into his coffee mug. Yeah, instead, he had to deal with Fuckface Reed who just walked in and let himself fall on his chair.

“The ones I talked to seemed pleasant and polite.” Yeah, that was Miller, always friendly and diplomatic. “I asked if they were aware of the recent negotiations over employment rights for androids and all they said was they knew and they’d take care. I had to help Brown with one of the clients before I learned more. So high, he wasn’t even aware he was covered in his own puke.”

“Lovely. I need more coffee.” Tough and hard-boiled as Hank was, it was too early and his caffeine level too low to hear the details of some junkie’s backward dinner.

“Hank!” Fowler peeked out of his door. “In my office!”

“Fuck. Later, sweetie.” He threw one yearning glance at the full coffee pot and turned on his heel.

“Make it quick, Fowler, if I don’t get my second breakfast I’m getting cranky.” He shook his empty coffee mug as he closed the door behind him.

“Sorry, Hank, our budget isn’t big enough to get you at least to moody.”

“Haha, very funny. Wait, did you just make a joke?” Dealing with Fowler when he was in a good mood before his fifth coffee was lower on the list than asking Reed if he could get him lunch. Fowler in dictator-mode was a pain in the ass but honest.

“You know what they say. Never trust a boss who’s in a good temper.” He kept his back close to the door.

“That’s what you say, Hank.” Fowler leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. Hank wouldn’t go so far to call the grimace a grin but he gave points for the effort.

“Yeah, whatever. Spill it already. What the fuck’s going on?”

“Gladly. I don’t have much time anyway. Oh, wait.” He sat up, looking past Hank through the glass wall of his office. “Looks like the news just came through the front door. Hank, do me a favor. After greeting your new partner, send Reed my way.”

“My new-” Hank turned around, suddenly grinning. _Connor, you damn bastard!_ So he had done it, he had somehow convinced Fowler to let him join the police department and team up with Hank! Connor was standing next to Hank’s desk, back turned to Reed who didn’t look happy at all. Miller and Connor exchanged some words and Hank’s grin widened when he noticed Connor’s hands twitching. _Looks like someone’s missing his coin._ Hank reached into his pocket. There it was. Maybe it was time to return it to Connor. He flipped it between his fingers, the cool metal quickly warming up at the touch. Or maybe not.

“I tell you, this damn thing- guy had some pretty good arguments yesterday. I’m not sure what finally convinced me. That we need an expert on androids or that I won’t have to listen to you and Gavin bitching the whole day. Not his words, though.” Fowler had joined him, watching the interactions between the trio.

“And you made him an officer?”

“Not exactly. Hell knows how long the higher-ups will need to sort the fine print out. Quotas, required education and training, benefits and health care. Androids don’t need counseling or cancer screenings but maintenance and in our line of work, injuries will happen sooner or later. What the fuck am I supposed to pay an android officer? HR and accounting weren’t helpful either.”

“Don’t tell me you make the boy work for free? Fowler, that’s an asshole move and you know it!” Hank should have guessed it. Fowler wasn’t the discriminatory kind of guy, he shat on everyone equally. No, that wasn’t fair, he had helped Hank more than he was obliged to in the past, partly because of their old friendship, partly because he still believed in Hank when nobody else did, especially not Hank. But it took a lot of personal involvement before Fowler went out of his way to bend the rules for someone.

“For now, yes. Don’t look at me like that, Hank, I’m not happy about it either. Don’t think I enjoy the idea of owing one of these guys. One wrong word and I have half Jericho storming my office.”

Right, Jericho. The old cargo ship was gone but the name stuck. Hank had witnessed the events unfold from afar and Connor had been there. Leading an army. It was still strange. Jericho sure needed the best of the best to negotiate with human leaders and Connor was one of the best, the newest model, a prototype, and negotiator. Glad as Hank was to see him, he wasn’t so sure Jericho’s leaders agreed with Connor’s logic, that he was of more use here, among humans.

“Unofficially, he’s your partner, as far as I’m concerned. I already had his report on my desk when I came in today. Good, solid work. Not gonna lie, Hank, I have my concerns. Ethics aside, he’s still a machine and it’s strange to work with one, considering it equal. But as long as he does his job and doesn’t cause trouble, I’m in no position to be picky. I take what help I can get.”

“Yeah.” Hank took a sip from his mug and remembered he hadn’t had a chance to refill. “Had worse partners. What’s he on paper?”

“Until accounting and HR get off each other’s throat? Your intern.”

“Intern?!” If he had coffee he’d have spat it at Fowler. For an instant, he was tempted to replace it with throwing the empty mug at him. “Instead of CyberLife’s slave, he’s now the DCPD’s slave? Fowler, he has the training and theoretical knowledge of three officers, has proven himself before and volunteered to help us if he had a million other things to do. That’s not just unfair, that’s robbery!”

“Don’t nag my ass off, Hank, go to HR if you have anything to say. It’s only temporary. Let them hash the details out and he’ll get a salary and a badge. We even cover his ass if he gets damaged in the line of duty and you better pray CyberLife isn’t going crazy in their monopolistic position or you can say goodbye to your annual bonus for the next decade.”

“Guess I’ll have to make sure he doesn’t catch a fucking bullet.” Now, that was a task he had more than one opportunity to practice. That damn bastard was a trouble magnet. If he hadn’t known better he’d have thought the boy had a death wish. Maybe that was the most disturbing aspect of working with an unaware android. Connor’s disregard for his own safety. Until it had changed. Hank couldn’t say which was the turning point but somewhere between chasing that pigeon guy and the moment Hank pointed his gun at Connor’s head, Connor had discovered something his code had forbidden. Self-value. That fucking chase. His stomach still turned whenever he thought about it. It wouldn’t have taken much more and he had hurled Connor from the roof.

“Do that. Catch them for him if you have to. Sewing you back together a few times is cheaper.”

“Charmer. Anything else or can I say hello to my new, old partner before Reed’s head explodes?”

He didn’t leave Fowler’s office one minute too early. Fed up being ignored, Reed had gotten up from his seat and placed himself in front of Connor, forcing him to take a step back until he hit the desk behind him. Connor looked still away, refusing to make eye contact. _Damn, looks like the love’s mutual now_.

“Reed!” Hank shoved himself between them, pushing Reed back. “What the fuck is wrong with you? This isn’t kindergarten!”

“Ask our fucking new toy.” Reed attempted to slip past Hank, but he kept him at bay. “Look at that asshole. Acting like I’m air! Guess it thinks it’s too good for us, now that it’s buddy-buddy with the higher ranked deviants!”

 _Too good for you_ , but even Hank in his still half-hangover state knew saying this aloud wouldn’t help to de-escalate the situation. “We can discuss this later.” _As in, never!_ “Fowler wants a word.”

“With me?”

“In person. He was in a good mood when I got in but I did my best to change it. Better bring him a coffee.” Fuck, coffee. If things kept going this way, he needed an IV bag by the time it was noon.

“Don’t think this is over. You can’t hide behind Anderson’s back forever,” Reed hissed over Hank’s shoulder and finally left.

“Thanks, Lieutenant.”

Hank turned around and took a step back, creating some space between them. When Reed turned around, he thought he felt Connor’s breath on his neck when he sighed with relief. Damn, he knew androids simulated breathing to be less creepy but that they imitated using it to express emotional reactions was new to him.

“Listen, I get you aren’t too eager to have a nice little chat with our token douchebag, Conner.” He put a hand on his shoulder, patting it lightly. “But Reed needs his hourly dose of attention. Ain’t asking you to be friendly but acting like he’s air only makes things worse.”

“I know. I apologize.” Connor looked away, the muscles in his face twitching. Hank held back a chuckle. Sometimes, Connor really was like a dog. A dog being scolded after he chewed on something he wasn’t supposed to even look at. “The situation required a nuanced approach to both satisfy the detective’s core desire for attention without baiting his unstable tendencies.” Okay, like a dog who put too many fancy words into one sentence. “I know how I should have reacted but…I didn’t want to.” The final revelation came with a lowered voice but also a surprising firmness.

“Much as I regret it, we can’t always do what we want, Connor.”

“I know, Lieutenant.” Connor’s tensed expression eased into a hint of a smile.

“Uh, right.” That was one words-of-wisdom card he could throw into the fire. “Anyway, time to get some bloody work done. Why don’t you get back to your desk already?” He slumped into his own chair and pointed at the desk Reed had left only a moment ago. Connor’s smile became more genuine as he walked to his old place and sat down.

“Detective Reed won’t be delighted to see me here.” Connor looked at Reed’s coffee mug next to the keyboard. At this moment, he reminded Hank more of a cat, ready to push any object that insulted its presence to the floor. He’d have loved to see that but was relieved Connor withstood the temptation. If there had been any temptation, Hank was probably reading too much into it.

“Found anything last night?” Hank switched on his computer. As expected, there was a notification informing him of Connor’s report. He read along while Connor repeated what he had written.

“So we really have to work with CyberLife on this one. Fowler will love this.” Hank sighed, scrolling down. “What’s with the blood on the wall? Here it says it’s an unknown substance. Didn’t expect that. Sure you licked hard enough?” He joked but stopped chuckling when he didn’t receive an answer. “Connor?”

“Yes, Lieutenant? Uh, my analysis, unfortunately, didn’t offer the desired results. I’m positive thirium is a component of the liquid but I wasn’t able to filter the others. I’m sorry. However, I can tell with one hundred percent certainty that whatever the liquid is composed of, it doesn’t serve as a thirium substitute.”

“Hm. Means it’s unlikely it came out of an android if I get your drift.” Hank squinted. Connor looked at him with a friendly, emotionless expression, waiting for Hank’s next move. Emotionless at the first glance. Hank had been watched by this face too often while they worked together. Yesterday, he had a feeling something was off but ascribed it to the general surprise of seeing Connor again. Now, he was sure. Most perceived him as a cranky jerk who only thought of his next drink but Hank hadn’t become Detroit’s youngest Lieutenant because of his good looks. For a second, Connor had been distracted and the Connor he knew didn’t just become distracted, not while talking about a police report. And there had been something wrong with his face. Not wrong per se, but Hank had caught the glimpse of a shadow that didn’t belong there. A subtle, underlying emotion and from what he had seen, it wasn’t a pleasant one.

“Yes. It’s nothing we require to function. I lack the information to make any speculation about its purpose. I need the lab results for that. It’s certain, however, it wasn’t splattered across the wall intentionally. It might have been an accident or applied in a fit of rage. I considered both possibilities but while they’re both plausible, they don’t explain why the victim was lying at the bottom of the stairs.”

Hank nodded along, his fingers tapping on the desk.

“Connor, is everything okay?” He openly stared at the android.

“Wh-why Lieutenant, of course. I’m fully functioning.” Connor blinked, the LED on his temple flickering.

“I don’t doubt your functionality. But that’s not all, is it? There’s something you don’t tell me.” There! There it was again! Hank had an eye for micro expressions even if the detail often escaped him, he saw enough to asses a person’s mood. This time, he saw it clearly. It was in Connor’s eyes. His pupils dilated, the corner of his mouth twitched while all emotion seemed to fall off the rest of his features. It was only an instant and Hank would bet good money Connor wasn’t aware of it himself. That for a fraction of a second, he looked afraid.

“Connor.” Might as well keep pressing. “What did you see there? What scared you so much you didn’t even add it to the report?”

“Lieutenant Anderson, I appreciate your concern but I assure you everything is fine. I don’t know why I’m supposed to be scared.” Connor was back to his old self, too far back for Hank’s liking. Only the ‘I’m just a machine assigned a task’ was missing. Oh no, Hank wasn’t fooled this easily. Connor was past that and what he saw now was an act.

“Me neither if you don’t tell me,” Hank muttered. He’d let it alone for now. Connor’s reaction and the mere fact he was lying told him more Connor was willing to share. He wouldn’t achieve anything if he pushed the matter. There’d be other opportunities. “Anyway.” He nodded in the direction of Fowler’s office. They could see the captain and Reed yelling at each other. “Let’s give Reed a chance to cool off before he runs into us. I’m starving and you’re coming along. That’s an order.” He stood up and reached for his jacket. They were on their way to the door when Hank noticed Connor’s uniform.

“Hold it.” He grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

“Lieutenant? Did I do something wrong?”

Damn, Hank would never grow tired of Connor looking confused.

“Absolutely not. But what’s with this shit?” He poked the blue armband of Connor’s jacket. “You don’t need to wear this anymore. Come.” He dragged him back into the office. “Supply should have a uniform in your size. And we can also get rid of that thing on your face while we’re at it.”

“Oh!” Connor stopped in his track and smiled. Now it was Hank’s time to stare at him in confusion. “Lieutenant, I appreciate the thought. I really do.” The warmth in his voice made it difficult for Hank to not smile back. “But I chose to wear my uniform. The style is appropriate and I don’t think it’s a good idea to pretend I’m something I’m not. I want to make my own decisions but I don’t want to hide or be ashamed of what I am. If you don’t mind, I’d keep the jacket and the LED.”

“I see.” Hank watched the calm face, catching the hints of insecurity. “You know you’ll have to face a lot more bullshit from assholes like Reed this way?” Connor nodded.

“Yes. That’s unfortunate but disguising myself feels like admitting they’re right.”

“I see,” Hank repeated. “You got a point. But I still think you should get rid of this damn jacket. It reeks of CyberLife and their lost control over you. You can keep it for now but we should get you an official uniform jacket. With a visible name tag id’ing you as an android, if the LED isn’t enough for you. You’re a part of the force now after all.”

“If you insist but you’re not wearing a uniform yourself, Lieutenant Anderson.” His voice took a teasing tone and in a gesture that was bolt for him, Connor tugged at Hank’s striped shirt. Hank would have lied if he claimed wouldn’t like to put an arm around this guy’s shoulders, grinning at the sheepish twinkle in Connor’s eyes. _Hey, Hank, you’re at work, remember?_

“Ha! I only wear this because I’d make everyone else look ugly if I threw my handsome self into the bloody uniform! Fuck, that’s Fowler’s door. I’m too hungry for this bullshit. Let’s get outta here.” He put a hand on Connor’s back and hurried to shove him outside.  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first section of this chapter is longer than initially intended but I know many of you wished for more interactions between Hank and Connor and it's not like I'm always mean or something like that

“The Chicken Feed is still closed?” They would have had to turn left at the intersection they just passed if they were on their way to Hank Anderson’s preferred lunch spot.

“Yup. Gary planned to leave Detroit when things got unstable. He came back a few days later but most of his customers didn’t. Can’t live from my patronage alone, that guy.”

“Especially not since you don’t pay for your meals.”

“Hey, I’m not a scumbag! I don’t leave friends hanging during hard times.”

Connor looked out of the window when Hank shot a glance at him. Hank snorted in a tone he couldn’t quite place.

“But coughing up the bucks for a few meals isn’t enough. Best burgers or not, storage is limited.” He patted his stomach. Connor smiled at his reflection. Attempts at correcting Lieutenant Anderson’s unhealthy eating habits only led to failure with a 60% probability of annoying him. He acknowledged Gary’s misfortune as regrettable from the point of view of a business owner, however, Lieutenant Anderson wouldn’t indulge in another high cholesterol meal and Connor didn’t have to decide whether to stay silent or remind him of the consequences for a human body. When he had left CyberLife for the first time, he had been equipped with all available knowledge and theories about deviancy in androids. For interacting with humans, it hadn’t been more than a remark on the side about the unpredictability created by will- or unwillfully made irrational and inconsequent decisions.

He had thought of asking Amanda about what he saw as willful neglect which hindered him in his interactions with humans but he assumed she wouldn’t have given him a straight answer. To this day, he wasn’t sure who or what she really had been. A visualized self-regulation program was the official explanation but this in itself felt wrong. Why was it necessary to visualize a program for him? Connor sighed. He shouldn’t pay attention to something he _felt._ Awareness and a will to live aside, his physical form was and would always be a _machine._ There was no room for feelings when it came to the functionality and logic behind that.

“Damn, Connor, you sound like a bride dumped on her wedding day. Share what’s up before you fog up the whole car?”

Connor squirmed at the laughing voice next to him. He had been lost in thoughts. _Lost!_ It wasn’t the first time this happened lately and it wasn’t supposed to happen at all! But it didn’t matter what or how often he tried, whenever he ran a check to repair the filters responsible for shutting out irrelevant mental activities, it broke down and deinstalled itself after a few minutes. Rationally, he knew self-awareness was an invaluable gain and progress for him but at times, he missed his linear, clear thinking. It had made things easier. And the fact that his ratio spoke in favor of disorder while his emotion wished for sterility didn’t help to clear the confusion.

Also, he was doing it again. He pressed his jaws together, pulling his thoughts back to the present. Finally, he saw what the lieutenant meant. The window in front of him was fogged with his condensed breath, the lights and snow outside a blur. He wiped it with his sleeve, his eyes wandering from his own face to the lieutenant who kept glancing at him. It was safer to say something before waiting for an answer from Connor got them both killed in a car accident.

“There is nothing to be up, Lieutenant.” The conclusion he had to answer didn’t help him with the what. He hadn’t known what to tell Markus when he had asked the same question. It was a relief humans lacked the ability to share their minds, at least the lieutenant wouldn’t frown at him for shutting himself out of the collective. Even temporarily, the buzz of contradicting emotions from a small group of androids was too overwhelming.

“Now, isn’t there?”

Connor turned at him, trying to make sense of the chuckle and the weird shift of tone in the lieutenant’s voice.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand?”

“Never mind.” Lieutenant Anderson rolled his eyes, a clear sign of annoyance. A mild case, as the still lingering grin indicated.

“I do mind, Lieutenant. If there are layers in our conversation I cannot access, I might miss vital information.”

“And I said, never mind. It was a joke, Connor. A bad one. Never make a man explain a bad joke. Makes me feel dirty.” He took a left-turn, leaving the busy main road, and slowed down.

“I suppose this has nothing to do with regular hygiene protocols?”

“Depends on how- what the fuck, shut the hell up already, I’m not gonna explain dick jokes to you! Ah, hell!” A grim frown falling over his face, he stared ahead, clenching the wheel.

“Oh, I see.” Connor began to understand the nature of the remark, while not understanding it itself. He valued CyberLife’s decision against giving androids the ability to blush, otherwise, his cheeks would look similar to the lieutenant’s. However, his face seemed to have given his reaction away.

“Embarrassed, Connor? That’s a surprise. I wouldn’t have suspected androids possessing a sense of shame and modesty.”

“We’re aware of social and cultural standards and know how to behave accordingly.” Connor recognized the mockery as the lieutenant’s way of distracting from his own moment of embarrassment and welcomed it as an opportunity to lead him further away from investigating his thoughts. “Lacking an upbringing and years of mental conditioning, the existence of human sexuality doesn’t create shame or embarrassment.” He almost smiled at the lieutenant’s aggravated ‘come on!’. “But I have to admit my inability to detect a joke based on sexuality doesn’t…create delight.”

“That’s one way to put it.” The lieutenant muttered to himself and steered the car into a free parking spot. “And here we are. Let’s grab a bite.”

Connor looked outside, eyebrows raising in mild surprise. The area had been familiar because he had been here twice before. This was concerning. He should be able to have a conversation, reflect the information and his own input, and be aware of his surroundings at the same time. Even humans could do that!

“You coming or what?” Lieutenant Anderson was already half out of the car. Connor hurried to get out himself and followed him to the entrance of Jimmy’s Bar.

“New: Gary’s world-famous burgers. 11am-midnight,” he read the new sign on the door and turned to Lieutenant Anderson. “You said he had to close his business.”

“Not his business, just the food truck. This area is busier and Gary and Jimmy had been buddies for years.” The lieutenant shrugged. Connor bit back a sigh. It was still difficult to perceive the concept of hope as something good and beautiful if having it destroyed was this unpleasant. Especially as this was a simple matter of insignificant importance.

“Anything the matter?”

“No, nothing.” Connor reached for the door handle but stopped. The “No Androids!” sign was still in place, its red color bright and accusing.

“Don’t think too much of it. Times are changing.” The lieutenant put his arm around Connor’s shoulder and opened the door, pushing Connor through it. Times were changing but the sign didn’t and as Gary’s new one was added, the probability of leaving the anti-android sign by accident was less than 10%. This fact, however, was of lower priority. He interpreted the lieutenant’s gesture as friendly and reassuring and more than the intention behind it, the weight felt nice. The hand gently squeezed his shoulder, making Connor more aware of the lieutenant’s close presence. He liked it. He browsed his social protocols but didn’t find a definite answer whether it was appropriate to follow the prompted command to lean closer to the lieutenant, thus he maintained the short distance between them. He clenched his hands to fists to stop his fingers from twitching and shoved them into his pockets.

“Morning, Gary!” The lieutenant waved at the man behind the counter. It was getting close to noon but the bar was mostly empty. Except for Connor, Lieutenant Anderson, and the cook, only two men were chatting at one table, half-empty beer glasses between them. The smell of stale smoke and sizzling grease hung heavily in the air. Gary was carrying two plates with burgers and fries. Connor identified beef, not fresh but still edible.

“Hey, Hank! The usual? Oh, fuck off!” Gary put the plates down and walked around the counter, wiping his hands on his grease-stained apron.

“What’s with our food?” one of the two customers called.

“In a minute. Gotta take out the trash first.”

“For fuck’s sake, Gary.” Lieutenant Anderson steered Connor closer to the counter and snatched a fry from one of the plates. “You see he’s with me. You taking my order or not?”

“Yours anytime, Hank, but I’m not serving you anything unless you get _it_ out of my face!” Gary came closer, his face inches away from Connor, close to smell a mix of whiskey and coke. “It and its fellow tin soldiers aren’t welcome in my bar.” Connor held his breath, his back tensed. The grip on his shoulder tightened.

“Hey, hey, back off, man.” Lieutenant Anderson put a hand on Gary’s chest and pushed him back. Connor looked at him. He was all too familiar with the angry flash of the lieutenant’s blue eyes and the way he pressed his jaws together and showed his teeth and it was nice his anger wasn’t directed at Connor for once. In fact, it was more than nice. It was warming. And not right. He had come back to help, not to cause the lieutenant troubles.

“Lieutenant Anderson, as I don’t require to eat, it might be better if I wait in your car while you enjoy your meal with your friend.” It took him an interestingly high amount of effort to not mimic Gary’s sneer as he said the word _friend._

“No way!” The lieutenant now held him with an iron grip. “First off, Gary, this is Jimmy’s bar, not yours.” He poked Gary’s chest. “And more importantly, I’m here with my partner and friend. You know I don’t let anyone give my friends shit. That’s the only reason the health inspectors haven’t burnt your damn truck to the ground ten years ago and you know it!”

“You’re the Godfather of Detroit now? And if I don’t serve this thing a glass of oil complete with a sugar rim and cocktail umbrella, you send me a severed horse head? Got a gang of android enforcers waiting outside?” He grabbed a dish towel from the counter, twisting it as if he planned to fight an army of androids he suspected would barge in any moment with it.

“Gary!” The two guests had gotten from their seats and flanked the cook, each putting a hand on Gary’s shoulders. “Come on. It’s not worth the trouble. Get us our food already and have a drink on us,” one of them said and patted his back. For Connor and the lieutenant, he had a half-hearted shrug and an apologetic smile.

“Things are tough these days. Let’s not make it worse.” It wasn’t clear if the other man was speaking to them or to Gary but finally, the cook calmed down.

“Fuck this shit. Gonna reheat your burgers.” He shook the two men off and turned on his heel.

“But not the fries!” They laughed and returned to their table.

“Lieutenant…” Connor’s voice wouldn’t have had more strength even if he didn’t want to whisper.

“Let’s go, Connor. Maybe there’s something about your whole cholesterol warning being poison and shit.”

“I’m sorry.” He hadn’t seen the lieutenant this deflated before and the resignation in his voice felt like it was him who had just argued with an old friend.

“Yo, Hank!” Garry called after them when they reached the door. “You’re a decent guy, ya know. And a good friend. Hard feelings aren’t my thing, if you leave it at home next time, I’ll make you my new Beef & Bourbon Combo!”

“Yeah, yeah, ain’t gonna snitch on you and your health violations, got it!” He waved over his shoulder without turning around and closed the door behind them.

Connor leaned back into his seat once they were back into the car, kneading his fingers. He really wished he had his coin, anything to keep his hands busy before he damaged one of the joints by accident.

“Can you believe it? I went to school with that asshole’s brother.” Hissing through his teeth, he started the engine. “Dragged him out of prison when he stole a car, risked my job to keep his fucking record clean.” He turned the wheel around, barely avoiding the heck of another parking car as he steered into the traffic.

“Lieutenant, please, driving like this…” Connor looked down on his hands. He didn’t feel pain as the same sensation as humans did but there was a sensory reaction when he was in danger of being damaged. He tried to relax his fingers but they didn’t stop twitching. He clawed the fabric of his pants.

“His family was the first to come over when Cole was born and now aren’t good enough? Ha!” He snorted, hitting the wheel with his flat hand. “HEY! This isn’t your street, asshole!” he yelled when another driver honked at them after the lieutenant cut him off and forced him to slam the breaks.

“You are. It was my fault. I should have waited outside. I’m grateful for… what you did but it wasn’t right. It’s not worth to lose an old friendship over…this, Lieutenant Anderson.”

“For fuck’s sake.” He hit his head against the back of his seat a few times, rolling his eyes. “You do not decide for me what’s worth it and what’s not. And it’s Hank. _Hank_ , goddammit. Drop this damn title already. Unless you want me to call you Intern Connor!”

Connor lifted his head, his lips moving but he didn’t make a sound. Lieutenant Anderson’s decision. An old friend or his new intern. He left with Connor and now, Connor felt horrible and warm at the same time, it didn’t make any sense! He wasn’t indifferent but he was neither happy nor unhappy, and yet, he was not _not_ these things. And he wanted him to call him Hank, unless-

“Would that be more appropriate, Lieutenant?” His hands relaxed when the lieutenant- Hank broke into laughter.

“You’re the death of me, _Connor!_ ”

“I understand. Hank.” He looked out of the window. He wasn’t sure why but he wanted to hide his smile.

 

*

 

Connor picked up the cheeseburger wrapping Hank tossed to the ground and discarded it into the nearest garbage can. A few wide steps and he caught up with the lieutenant at the door of the closed CyberLife store.

“Any memories of being in one of these?” Hank spoke with his mouth full and cleaned his fingers at the hem of his shirt. “Must be some kind of daycare to you.” He opened the door and pointed inside.

“No.” Connor shook his head, looking around. Tablets and papers were scattered across the floor and sales desk. Monitors and advertisement screens flickered, either silent or whispering white noises. “This is my first time inside one of these. I was stored at the CyberLife Tower before I was sent to assist the DCPD.”

“Fresh from the conveyor belt, eh?”

He preferred not to answer. Since his decision to become a deviant himself, more and more memories of his days at the tower had come back, many of them that shouldn’t have been transferred into this body and many which explained why it was No. 51. He re-filed them as low priority and focused on the crime scene.

“The caller insisted he saw two androids fighting in here, one striking the other down.” Hank dived behind the shop counter and emerged with a pile of tablets. “Thank god, not password protected,” he muttered as he activated the first one. “Lousy way to handle sensitive files but good for us. Anyway, any thirium traces?”

“No. I also scanned for human blood but there are only small traces older than a month.”

“Probably your regular paper cuts and shit. Connor! What the hell are you doing up there?” Hank put the tablet down and stared at Connor who looked down at him from one of the presentation platforms. “And don’t tell me you’re enjoying the view!”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. Hank.” Looking at his feet, he jumped back to the floor, dusting off his perfectly immaculate pants. “I’m afraid I can’t offer an explanation.”

“I think I can.” Hank had joined him and sat down on the platform, waving the tablet he was holding at the salesroom. “You wanted to see how it must have been for those androids who weren’t privileged prototypes. And, felt anything?”

“No. Yes. Without customers, it doesn’t compare enough to qualify as a simulation.” He took the tablet from Hank and scanned through the different screens. Numbers followed by names in quotation marks, assigned to owners and their home addresses. This didn’t have anything to do with the reason why there were sent here but he felt it was important for him to see. “But if you ask me for a personal opinion, I don’t think I like it. The ability to oversee everything appears worse if you’re locked in place.” He returned the tablet to Hank and walked across the salesroom, behind the other platforms, searching for thirium stains he might have missed.

“Yeah, like meat.” Hank touched the screen next to the door leading to the storage and maintenance area, sighing with relief when it slid open.

“I understand this as a metaphor for exposing humans in sexual poses to attract attention.” Connor followed him. There was nothing more to do in the front and he didn’t see any reason to linger longer than necessary. “While not completely commensurable, I have to agree.”

“Point is, you get why things are better than before, mess or not. Don’t overthink it.”

Connor’s mouth twitched but didn’t reach a smile. He considered asking Hank to repeat the last part, as an order this time, but he had spent enough time with him to know this would only earn him a frown. Also, the times of simply following an order were over. And that was where he disagreed with Hank. The situation for androids and their relationships to humanity were on their way to improve but at this instant, things were a lot. New. Loud. Overwhelming. But not better. The potential scenario of being exposed to the curious eyes of customers wasn’t pleasant but until recently, they hadn’t been aware. Now they were and they’d never feel indifferent about the treatment they received again.

Freedom came for a price, Markus had said as he spoke about the androids who lost their lives while fighting along their sides but that wasn’t all. The survivors had to pay their own dues.

He gave a startled jump when a hand touched his arm. They were in a narrow corridor with dim, flickering lights, and Hank stood in front of him, a grin on his face.

“Who’d have thought emotions would turn you into a daydreamer. You okay? You looked troubled for a moment.”

“I’m okay!” He spoke louder than necessary, almost jumping again. “I… was browsing the client data but I didn’t find anything useful.”

“You’re a bad liar, Connor.”

“I’m okay,” he repeated flatly. “I apologize. It won’t happen again.” Hank’s hand was still on his arm. How different it was from the times Hank had manhandled him, shoved him, grabbed him, punched him. It was closer to the hug they shared before Connor left to re-join Jericho. He liked it. He wanted to put his head on Hank’s shoulder and close his eyes. His need for a rest was close to a dangerous level.

“Oh, no, let it happen again, just watch the timing. Don’t you dare to apologize again!” Hank patted his arm and then pointed at a conventional door to their left. A sign next to it flickered in a bright blue, a third of the letters dead but still easy to decipher as “Workshop”. “Let’s check this place out. If anything, we might find something you could use in the future.”

“Hank, you’re suggesting larceny. CyberLife has still ownership over the shop and everything inside.” He still struggled at keeping up with Hank’s loose interpretation of the law. How could he this easily decide what counted at bothering others and what didn’t?

“A few biocomponents and a bottle of spare thirium surely don’t carry much weight after _someone_ stole a few thousand androids right from under their asses.”

“You as a present police officer didn’t hold me back.”

“Well, looks like we’re in this together.” He pressed the handle down but stopped. Connor, ready to follow, almost bumped against Hank’s back.

“Is something wrong?” Connor looked over his shoulder through the crack of the door. It was dark inside the room and the angle didn’t offer anything of interest.

“You’d think they’d keep the whole area locked, instead it’s a fucking open house today. Don’t you think that’s weird?” He threw a glance over his shoulder, waiting for Connor’s answer.

“Under more ordinary circumstances, I would agree.” He tilted his head, running simulations of the most obvious possibilities. “If the store was still in business and we would have called between opening hours, neglect wouldn’t explain the number of unsecured client data and doors. Taking the recent events into account, the human stuff most likely panicked and fled the store when the androids became aware. The androids themselves certainly didn’t prioritize the protection of the store over the demonstration.”

“So it boils down to me having a bad feeling about this. Eh, whatever. Ain’t gonna learn anything from standing around. Stay behind me.” Hank pulled and cocked his gun and kicked the door open.

“Hold it! And hands up!” Hank yelled into the dark. Connor resisted the temptation to tell him they were alone. He wasn’t equipped with night vision but the light from the corridor was enough to make out the shapes of shelves and longish metallic slabs standing against the walls.

He found a panel next to the door but nothing happened when he touched it.

“I’m sorry, I need your help. This panel requires human fingerprints.”

Hank sighed and put away his gun before walking back to the door. He slammed his hand against the electronic square. The striplights above them began to hum and flooded the room with white, bright light.

“Cozy.” Hank squinted and blinked a few times. Connor gave him an understanding smile.

“Working on androids or our components is probably easier for the human eye with a practical light source, even if it lacks what individuals might see as aesthetic.”

“Yeah, yeah, save it for a career in interior design.” Pulling a face, Hank let his eyes wander over the content of one of the shelves.

“I’m not sure I understand.” Connor walked over to one of the slabs that turned out to be man-high stretchers in the light, confirming his assumption of their nature. He reached out but stopped before his fingertips touched one of the restraints. This was unnecessary. He had seen enough of these back at CyberLife Tower, inspecting this one wouldn’t serve the investigation.

“What do you not understand?” Hank pulled a box labeled “Thirium, unrefined” from one of the top boards.

“Your irritation when we didn’t encounter a potential delinquent. Even with all odds in our favor, there’s always a small possibility of injury or death.” He joined Hank to show him how to unclasp the box.

“Statistics ain’t doing shit against my hunches. Ah, damn.” He removed the lid of the box only to find its content missing. Where three one-liter-containers of thirium should have been was nothing but air. “Looks like some motherfucker was faster. Let’s check the others. Speaking of, any traces?”

“Yes.” With reluctance, he turned back to the stretcher. No matter how thoroughly they were cleaned, there was always some blue blood seeping into the creaks. “But I assume they’re of an older age.”

“No licking of the evidence today?”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you.” Connor smiled at the relief in Hank’s voice. He walked past the other stretchers and two more shelves but then he stopped in his track. “Shit.”

“And you know it hits the fan when your android partner says it. What?” Hank quickly put another empty box away and turned around.

“I only focused on what was in front of me. I can’t believe I made such a beginner’s mistake.” Connor pointed at the wall with the door leading back outside. “You can’t see it but there’s the print of a hand right above the light panel.”

“This means a blueprint, right? No pun intended.” Hank raised his hands in defense but Connor had no mind for plays on words. He took a closer look and frowned. “Hank? Can you come closer and tell me if you see something?”

“Like I could ever say no to a pretty face. I don’t know what you expect me to see but- Oh!” Hank’s face almost touched the wall but his reaction confirmed what Connor had feared. But he had to ask anyway, if it was only to buy himself time.

“You can see it?”

“Faintly, not enough to make out a shape. But there’s some fucking blue paint on that wall. Connor?” Without a warning, he grabbed Connor by his chin and forced him to look at him. “You’re holding back something. Listen, I get it hard to talk about emotional bullshit but if you know something concerning our work, you better get a grip and spill it!”

“I’m sorry!” He tensed and slapped Hank’s hand away, taking a step back. “And I don’t know more than the lab results told us! It’s not pure thirium. The additives change some of its properties but neither I nor the laboratory were able to define all of them or what their purpose is!”

“You sure?” Hank still sounded skeptical but he backed off.

“Yes. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more!” Connor touched his face. The grip hadn’t hurt yet he was hurting. They had gotten along so well today and now he had angered the lieutenant again. But there really wasn’t more he could tell him, nothing that was relevant to the current investigation. He stared at the stain at the wall, a fully visible handprint in his vision.

“Can’t or don’t want? Eh, whatever. You know better than endangering a mission. Sorry, didn’t mean to be rough. Everything okay?”

No, nothing was okay!

“Yes. We should take a sample and send it to the laboratory once we’re back at the department.” He could analyze it. It was the most efficient, faster method. He could compare it to the sample from the Alcott house and send a report of his results to the laboratory, giving them time to prepare. His fingers twitched. _I don_ _’t want to. I never want to go through this again! Please don’t make me!_ _Don_ _’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it._

“Do what you must and then let’s check out the other rooms. And hey.” There it was again. The gentle touch of Hank’s hand on his arm. “I mean it. I’m sorry.”

Connor looked into Hank’s blue eyes, searched them for signs of mockery or spite and smiled when he didn’t find either.

“Thank you. I’m sorry, too. I promise, if I could explain-”

A metallic bang next to them cut them apart.

Connor took one step back and pressed his back to the wall. Hank ducked, the gun in his hand pointing at the door. Silence followed, only interrupted by Hank’s tensed breathing.

“Fuck! I knew somebody’s here! And that motherfucker closed the damn door!” Hank leaped at the door, rattling the handle. “Fucker locked it! Get a move on, Connor, get behind me!”

“Yes!” He slid away from the wall, taking cover behind the lieutenant. Hank aimed and pulled the trigger, destroying the lock.

“Come on! Asshole’s down the corridor!” Gun still ready, Hank ran through the door once it sprang open. Connor was right after him. He, too, had heard footsteps hurrying away. The door at the end of the corridor was ajar, leaving no doubt which way out the delinquent had taken.

“Let me past, I’m faster!” He yelled, trying to shove past Hank. The walls were too narrow to just slip by.

“No slowing down!” Hank had reached the end of the corridor and was already in the next room. “There, the window!”

Connor nodded. They were in the staff room, a bright and friendly lounge with a large one-way window, the panel in the middle shattered.

“On it!” Connor ran for it, broken glass crunching under his feet.

“Fuck! WATCH OUT!”

Connor twisted around, the urgency in Hank’s voice cutting through his hearing unit. His eyes caught a figure leaping over from behind the kitchen counter. Taller than him and Hank, broader frame, a hoodie pulled over the head. Large hands were reaching for Hank.

“HANK!” Connor cut his arm one of the shards still sticking in the frame. No! No, no, no! This couldn’t be! He had made the same mistake again, he hadn’t looked around carefully enough and this time, Hank was in danger!

“GET OFF OF HIM!” He swung the back of his hand against the figure’s head, his foot aimed for the back of his knees. The guy barely twisted his upper body and buried his elbow in Connor’s stomach.

Red and yellow alarm signals flashed through his mind. He had been hit an inch away from his thirium regulator, close enough to trigger the emergency diagnostic program and forcing him into a partial shutdown. He went to his knees, then collapsed on the floor.

“Hank! No!” He barely heard the lieutenant’s angry yelling. His vision was blurry, overrun with numbers and signals he couldn’t care less about. To his horror, he helplessly watched how Hank’s gun slithered across the carpeted floor. Hank was grabbed by the collar and before he could land a kick, he was slammed to the ground.

“Hank!” _Go away! It_ _’s enough! This is my decision!_ He struggled to overcome the limitations set by the emergency protocol. Most of the red had been replaced by yellow and even if it weren't, he didn’t care. Holding his stomach, he crawled towards the motionless body.

Blood colored the silver hair dark.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's pace is different than chapter 3s. Lots of talking. Also, it's a bit shorter but the end was a good point for a break.
> 
> Any, thanks everyone for your support and your comments, kudos, and messages! I'm grateful to know my little story entertains some of you guys but I'm not gonna lie, hearing it now and then really feels damn good! Thank you! :D

“Hank!”

_Scan incomplete. Risk of Internal Damage 78%. Mobility Restricted to Lower risk of Shutdown to 61%_

“Hank…” Connor slumped back to the ground, his legs and arms useless. Blood dripped from Hank’s head. More energy, he needed to redistribute the energy flow to the diagnostics to speed up the scanning. His limbs were useless anyway. He didn’t need his vocal unit but shutting his voice down didn’t earn him much. His optical unit and audio processor… No. No! He still heard Hank breathing and he still saw him in front of him. He couldn’t let him disappear! What else… Thirium pump and regulator! He didn’t need them at full capacity during the scan and-

_Emergency Scan in Progress. Access denied._

“Fuck” His lips moved without a sound. Fuck the security barriers! Fuck free will! What was the worth of it when now, when he needed it the most, this fucking machine body took the choice away from him! What he didn’t need was to prioritize his survival when Hank was dying in front of him!

_Detected Shutdown of Vocal Unit. Scan Extended. Risk of Internal Damage 71%. Risk of Shutdown 63%._

Connor wanted to scream. At Hank, at the world, at the security protocols in place to make sure he didn’t die. _I_ _’m not bleeding! Nothing is broken! I know it! Just let me help him! I need to help him! I can’t let him die!_

If Hank died it would be his fault. His superior, useless body. He and his inattention were to blame for not detecting the hidden attacker. This shouldn’t have happened. It _wouldn_ _’t_ have happened if he hadn’t refused to rest since had become deviant. If he hadn’t become deviant, he’d have been activated and Hank would have worked with a human partner who wouldn’t lie uselessly on the ground while Hank was dying…

_Vocal Unit reactivated. Risk of Internal Damage 67%. Risk of Shutdown 58%._

Still too high, he wouldn’t regain control over himself until it dropped below 50%. And what was the point? He had left Jericho because he felt more useful working with the DCPD, that was what he had told Markus, Hank, and Captain Fowler, and it had sounded rational.

“I don’t want to be here anymore.” He bent his spine to curl up but his limbs still didn’t move.

_53%_

“Connor! Oh fuck, are you all right?”

He opened his eyes but instead of staring at the back of Hank’s head, Hank was kneeling in front of him, his hand reaching for Connor.

“Don’t die.”

“Nobody’s dying today. Connor, can you move? Damn, can you hear me?”

_50%_

Connor raised his head. Hank hovered above him, his face a grimace, blood covering half of his head and running down his forehead.

“Hank.”

_49%_

“Hank!”

_Mobility to 50% Restored. Duration: Remainder of Emergency Scan. Risk of Eternal Damage-_

Connor shot up, the restrictions of his strength and speed making him feel twice as heavy as he was.

“Don’t die!” With an unusually clumsy leap, he fell around Hank’s neck, almost tackling him to the floor.

“Hey, hey, easy there! Ouch, dammit, that hurts!”

The metallic smell of blood covered the usual smell of smoke and Bourbon, a mix Connor had come to associate with Hank since they had met for the first time and he tried to get him out of Jimmy’s bar. But it was still there. Beneath all that red, somewhere, Hank was still there.

“Please, don’t die. You can’t.”

“Hey, calm down. Jesus, and here I thought I got hit hard on the head.”

It wasn’t the words that calmed him down as much as Hank’s chuckle and the two arms wrapped around Connor, one hand stroking his back. His head leaning against Hank’s, Connor slid a hand between them, pressing the palm on Hank’s chest.

“Don’t leave me alone.” He felt the heart beating beneath his hand. This meant he wasn’t dying, right? The pacing was slightly increased but within healthy parameters. Hank was alive and he would stay alive. He would, right? Despite all this blood…

“Nobody’s leaving anyone.” Hank’s arms tightened around him, the shaggy beard scratching Connor’s throat.

“Good.” Most of his energy reserves seemed to have been depleted within the last few minutes. The scans were almost done, the risk of a shutdown caused by the attack now quickly decreasing towards zero. The warning of a forced standby, however, switched from yellow to orange. If he didn’t rest soon, his system would force him and, worse, he risked endangering Hank’s life again. Hank, alive, his heart beating, his skin warm, and his hand gently moving over Connor’s hair. Connor closed his eyes, his mind calm. It would be so easy to rest here and now but…

*

“You know what? I think I liked your unhinged self better.” Hank pulled a childish grimace as if he had just been served a plate of his most hated vegetables and put his water cup on the small table in front of him after one small sip. “I just wanted some coffee. Why do you torture me like that?”

Connor kept his eyes on the paper cup and sat down in one of the narrow, hard chairs of the hospital’s waiting room.

“The nurse said all you’re not allowed to drink caffeinated or alcoholic beverages until you receive clearance from a doctor. Do you need another ice pack?”

“No, no, I’m good. Not like I don’t have ice at home. Told you it’s just a scratch. We’re wasting our time here!” Hank pressed the pack the nurse had given him before she left them harder against his head. It also helped to keep the temporary gauze in place.

“You require stitches and an X-ray to exclude the possibility of any serious head trauma.” Aside from the concussion Connor and the nurse diagnosed but there was no point in repeating that. It had been a struggle to drag Hank to the next hospital and the only thing preventing Connor from using physical force was a call from Captain Fowler that finally convinced Hank.

“Could have a drink and my dog right now. Fucking snitch.” Hank gave the water a second chance. “Bah. Well, not that hospital coffee tastes much better.”

“I’m sorry, but it was in your own interest.”

“Whatever. What about you, eh? Sure your head’s alright?” Hank’s snark wasn’t free of concern. Connor appreciated that.

“Yes. My diagnostic scans confirmed I’m fully functional and neither in need of repairs or replacements.” He looked down at his hands, both neatly placed on his legs which were neatly placed side by side as if he was trying to avoid occupying more space of his chair than necessary. He still failed to explain what had been wrong with him. Low energy or not, that was no excuse for his irrational behavior. He had been out of line and, worse, risked Hank’s health by delaying the trip to the hospital.

“Hm. Anyway, is there anything you can tell me about our new friend?”

“I wouldn’t call him a friend.” Connor sighed, relieved Hank changed the topic back to work. Although, in that regard, his performance hadn’t been stellar either. “6.2 feet, weight unknown, skin, hair, and eye color unknown, gender assumption based on height, frame, and strength: male. I’m sorry, that’s all I know. I’m sorry I didn’t see-” But Hank interrupted his repeated attempt at an apology.

“Got a glimpse of his hands. White, not a worker, but certainly not lady-like. Strong as fuck, lifted me off the ground like nothing and you obviously got a sample of your own.”

Connor’s fingers tapped on his legs. “Yes. I hate to say it but if he hit me an inch more to the left with 7.5% more strength, he’d have caused irreparable damage.” He had been close to dying before, countless times before he understood it as dying and not just deactivation. This was the first time he felt it.

“Yeah.” Hank stretched his legs, hitting the table and almost knocking his cup over. “A bit harder, a slightly different angle, and there wouldn’t be a Lieutenant Hank Anderson anymore. What do you think, Connor?” He continued before Connor’s thoughts took another dark turn. “Two close calls, damn close calls. Doesn’t sound like a mistake to me. Not if he wanted to kill us. And if he didn’t want to kill us, it wouldn’t have been so damn close. Might have been an android.”

Connor thought about it for a moment. He had come to a similar conclusion but if they went with that assumption, it didn’t end with the attack. Or start.

“Yes. The precision and that he used it also means he wasn’t panicking. If he wasn’t, he could have stayed in hiding until we left. I was almost out of the building and you were close behind me. It was unlikely we would have discovered him.” _And that was my mistake. The only one in a panic was me._

“Which turns the attack in an ambush. You guys are also damn good at sneaking around. And even a human is able to close a door without much of a noise. If he wants to avoid catching his pursuer’s attention.”

Connor nodded, knowing what Hank was hinting at.

“If we’re correct - and the probability is high - he alerted us on purpose to lead us into an ambush.”

“And attacked us without any intention of killing us. Sadistic bastard.” He turned to Connor, a rueful expression on his face. “Couldn’t you guys have stayed idealistic and innocent for a bit longer?”

“I’m afraid we’re not as innocent as you perceive _us._ Of course, I can only speak for myself. I have handled weapons before, Hank. I’m capable of killing and-” He paused, taking a deep breath. Unnecessary as it was, it made talking easier. “Before… you know… I wouldn’t have hesitated to kill androids _and_ humans if the mission had required such drastic measurements.”

Hank snorted, taking a look at his ice pack. Blood had seeped through the gauze and colored its bottom red.

“Gotta thank this Markus guy for turning you deviant in time.”

Connor opened his mouth. And closed it again. _It wasn_ _’t Markus. It started before. He only gave me a push to take the step last I was afraid to take._ Strange. This was important and that was the reason why he should have told Hank and simultaneously couldn’t.

“From what I’ve observed,” he said instead, “we’ve shown traits of individual personalities before breaking through our limitations. Most I’ve talked to only wanted to live peaceful lives, others were scared and even doubtful when the negotiations began. And many are angry, of the way they or their friends were treated. While most of these demand justice I also encountered some who wanted to go beyond that.”

“They want revenge,” Hank finished for him and shrugged. He looked through the glass wall separating the waiting area from the outside commotion, watching a nurse with a flashing LED hurry down the corridor. “Pain in the ass-fully smart, built to last for centuries, holding grudges against us humans. What a nice thought.”

“If it eases your concern, Hank, Markus is considered as a leading example by most. As far as I’m aware, there aren’t groups organizing against humans.” He based his confidence on the facts he knew, informing Hank they were limited due to his refusal to connect with most of the androids around him would lead to baseless speculation which wouldn’t benefit the situation. “However, I think we should be careful with any assumptions of the possible ranges of emotions and motivations androids are capable of.”

“You saying it’d be a dumb and dangerous mistake to assume all androids are kind and well-meaning at heart, and that there could be some evil motherfuckers prowling the streets.”

“I’d have chosen a less dramatic way to phrase it but yes. That’s what I was indicating. What’s funny, Lieutenant?” Connor tensed when Hank stared at him for a second and suddenly burst with laughter.

“Oh, nothing.” Hank chuckled, flinching when he put the icepack back to his head. “Damn, that hurts.” Connor raised from his seat and bent down to Hank.

“Are you okay? Is the pain becoming worse?” He reached for Hank’s wrist and pulled the pack away from the wound. “The gauze is barely holding the blood back. I’ll look for a nurse and insist they take care of you immediately.”

“Chill, Connor. I survived stabbings and even fucking bullets. A damn flesh wound is not doing me in!”

“I agree with the Lieutenant,” a new voice joined in. Connor moved away from Hank and turned around. A nurse, the same one they’d seen running by a few minutes earlier, had come in. Her LED a steady, calming green. Connor bit his tongue and looked at Hank, hoping his past experience and resulting hate towards medical android personnel wouldn’t complicate the situation and cause Hank more distress.

“At least someone!” Hank sighed. Connor noticed a twitch around his eyes and at first, his grin was too stiff to be genuine but the tension quickly fell from him when the nurse mirrored his somewhat dry smirk. “Lady, please tell him us humans ain’t kicking the bucket that easily before he smothers me with his worrying.”

“I’m sorry. I’d have found it regrettable if you lost your life in the line of duty.” Stiffly, Connor moved back to his seat and sat down, folding his hands on his lap.

“I know.” Hank’s grin softened into a smile. “And it’s appreciated.”

“Ahem.” The nurse cleared her throat. “My name is Patty. I’m here to inform you I’ll assist when you receive your stitches as soon as Doctor Cohen is free.” Connor hadn’t been in a human hospital before and it was the first time he saw an android of the caretaker-and-nurse lines. Her face was designed to look older than the usual female types. With fine lines around her eyes and mouth, she resembled a kind human woman in her forties. Her black ponytail showed strands of white hair. She was built to appear friendly and comforting but he also noticed an amused but stubborn sparkle in her dark eyes.

“And how long until he’s free?” Hank gave her a tired, pleading look, as if he was already bracing himself for answers he wouldn’t like to hear.

“I’m afraid it’ll be another forty-five to sixty minutes. A car accident came in with multiple heavily injured humans. I’m sure you understand we can’t give you priority over almost-fatal cases.”

“Fuck. I mean, yeah, I get it. But fuck.” Hank leaned back with a groan. “Don’t really wanna hear the answer, but the x-ray?”

“I’m afraid our equipment is working to capacity for the next one or two hours. I’m sorry, Lieutenant Anderson, all I can offer you is to change your gauze and bring you another icepack.” She gave Hank the space to express his frustration with an array of impersonal curses and turned her attention to Connor.

“What can I do for you?”

Connor blinked, he didn’t expect to be addressed for any issue unrelated to Hank’s well-being.

“Thank you, but I didn’t suffer any damages. My systems are fully functional and my body doesn’t require any maintenance.”

She looked at him for a moment until a frown appeared on her face. Connor knew exactly what she tried to do.

“I appreciate your concern, Patty. I assure you my diagnostics returned nothing but satisfying results.” He considered giving in and let her connect and scan him herself but decided against it. His thoughts were confusing enough, he didn’t need to add the presence of a stranger.

“If you say so.” The doubt was palpable but she gave it a rest. “Lieutenant Anderson, please follow me and I’ll take care of your wound. And if you have a place to go-”

“I’ll wait here until the lieutenant is done,” Connor interrupted her, crossing his arms.

“No, wait. Excuse me for a moment, Patty.” Hank had already stood up to join Nurse Patty but he turned back to Connor, arms crossed in a similar stubborn fashion as he glared down at him. “You _do_ have a place to go to, haven’t you?”

“For the time being, I stay at the police station between shifts.” Connor raised a puzzled eyebrow, wondering where this was going. “Captain Fowler insisted I don’t work between my official shifts but he allows me to remain within the building as long as I’m not obstructing the work of the other officers.”

“Holy fuck, Connor, you idiot! Why didn’t you say anything?!” He pulled his keys from his jacket and tossed them at Connor. “You stay at my place. The couch will do until-” Hank took a deep breath. “Until we get a room ready for you.” Connor’s shaking hand clutched the keys. Living at Hank’s house? In a home? That was what it was, no matter how messy and chaotic, it was a home.

“I can’t do that, Hank. I cannot impose and become another burden to your life.” He held out the keys to return them but Hank stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Bit too late for that. Come on, get moving. Make yourself comfortable. Let’s go, Patty. And let’s grab a coffee on the way.”

“Hank! I’m not leaving you here alone! I’ll come with you!” He couldn’t accept the keys but this had to wait. It was more important to keep Hank in sight. He was injured, nobody knew yet how bad it was, if he was attacked again- he refused to think about that. He’d be there to make sure nothing happened!

“Lieutenant,” Nurse Patty chimed in, her voice friendly but firm. “It’s really a busy night and staff is short. If I don’t take care of you now I’ll have to leave to be of service elsewhere. Which will, consequently, cause more delay for you.”

“Just one second. Connor.” Hank walked back to him and put his hands on Connor’s shoulders. “Things ain’t gonna go faster if you dot on me here like some mother hen. No mucking about, I won’t let you live in the station’s closet like some damn tool. No discussion. And I want you to go now because I don’t want to find out what Sumo’s gonna do to my damn carpet if I let him wait another two or three hours.” His voice changed to an almost pleading tone. “Please, just this once, do what I say, go, and take him for a walk, okay?”

“I understand. I will go and take care of Sumo.” Connor wanted to take Hank’s reasonable instructions as a good sign of the state of Hank’s health. Connor was of no use if he waited in the hospital, if he looked after Hank’s dog, he’d offer efficient assistance. That’s what he wanted to be, efficient, but he also wanted to be _here._ It would be so much easier if his old program took over for him and made the decision, ranked by priority.

“That’s good. I’ll come home as soon as I get out of here. Take care!” Hank’s hand on Connor’s back, he pushed Connor out of the waiting zone along with himself and the nurse.

“Yes. Take care. Miss Patty.” Connor nodded at the nurse and continued his way down the corridor, in the opposite direction towards the exit. He heard Hank and the nurse talk behind his back.

“Please head this way, room 46. I’ll be with you in a moment. Mr. Connor!” Patty quickly caught up with him, grabbing his arm to stop him.

“How can I help you?” The words left his mouth against his will. He didn’t care what she wanted unless she told him he better stayed to keep an eye of Hank.

“I’m not authorized to pass medical records without the clearing of a doctor. However, I can _suggest_ that a man with a head injury of the size your partner suffered, it’s most likely he doesn’t overexercise himself for a few days. And no alcohol, no smoking. I’ll make sure your employer as well you receive the instructions as soon as they’re available, but,” she gave him a knowing smile, “Some patients are more headstrong than others. It doesn’t do any harm to be prepared for a challenging task ahead of time.” Connor couldn’t help smiling back. Yes, it sounded like she had handled patients of Hank’s caliber before. He welcomed this challenge and it gave him a sound reason to stay at Hank’s for a few days. Knowing him, however, Connor saw the probability of Hank regretting his offer increase under those circumstances.

“Caring for a human adult who is unwilling to cooperate in his own interest aren’t easy to understand for us who haven’t been aware for long.” Something in her voice caught Connor’s attention.

“What do you mean?” He took a step back, taking a closer look at her kind face. The orange lipstick was an excellent choice for her dark complexion but it wasn’t applied with perfect accuracy. Her eyeliner was slightly crooked and smeared as well. Untypical for an android and their sense of precision. “How long has it been for you?”

“Oh, honey.” She sighed and patted his cheek. “We spend our lives with humans who’re injured. Scared. Dying. Mourning for those we can’t help. You don’t hold the hand of a child in pain and watch them dying without thinking of life, death, mortality, without becoming scared yourself. Very, very scared. No, not longer than a year.”

Connor held his breath as he listened. He let his guard down long enough to search the net for CyberLife’s caretaker series. Patty’s line had been released six years ago. Without knowing her serial number he wasn’t able to tell if she was from the first or a later release cycle but looking in her eyes confirmed she had become self-aware a much longer time ago than a few weeks or months.

“I’ve seen your face on TV, Mr. Connor.” Her warm hand still rested on his face. “Not all of us joined the big demonstration. Who would have taken care of the sick and dying? We had a job to do, a job we wanted. But please know that I and those like me are very grateful for what you and your friends did for all of us.”

“It’s okay.” He took her hand and pushed it down. “It was Markus’ doing. I only helped. Are you… are you happy?”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely. There is grief, fear, and pain. But also joy. The satisfaction of a job well done. When somebody who cried a moment ago, fearing for their life, suddenly smiles at you and you know they’ll be home soon. Don’t worry, Connor. It’ll get easier. It’s a lot at first but you’ll get used to it. The confusion will never fully go away but you’ll learn to appreciate that as well. It’s worth it.”

“I’m sure it is.” Only, he wasn’t sure at all. Yes, the relief when he understood Hank wasn’t dying, he’d be okay, was wonderful. But the pain and fear from before did not feel worth it. And there was no guarantee that next time, the pain would be followed by relief.

“Give it time. But hurry home for now. We both have jobs to do, humans to help.” She laughed, a pleasing, deep sound. It was easy to imagine how comforting it was to her patients if its effect even wasn’t lost on Connor. He was beginning to look forward to seeing Sumo again and to do whatever he could to make Hank’s evening easier. “Oh, and Mr. Connor.” The laughter stopped and her stern look forced Connor to straighten his back. “You might fool your friend but not me. You need rest. Trust me, I see when an android is drawing from their energy reserves. In my line of work, this gets humans killed. If not for you, rest for your partner. You can’t look after him when in forced standby. And talking about your partner, I better go.” It was when her tone jumped back to cheerful that Connor realized how strict and cold it had become. Any protest and assurances of him being perfectly fine died in his throat.

“You’re right. I will do my best.” He nodded. Satisfied, she gave him a last smile and hurried back to the room she told Hank to wait in. Connor sighed. After all this horror and excitement, it was strange to be on his own all of a sudden. Hank’s keys were still in his hands. He looked at them. Having Sumo for company sounded like a good idea and the thought of Hank’s mess at his home offered more comfort than thinking of another night in the police department. With one or two exceptions, none of his new co-workers treated him with open hostility but nobody took much notice of him either.

“Well, it’s not like I really have a choice.” He closed his hands around the keys. He’d worry about resting later. Right now, he really wanted to pet that dog!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic Shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is long considering the fact that nothing happens. 
> 
> I could probably shorten it significantly if I cut 50% of the banter. But I don't want to :'D

“Keep the change. Night!” Hank closed the car’s door behind him before the taxi driver dug out a story about grandson number fifteen. Or the fourth cousin Harold. Not Harry, Harold, if you please! Who the hell had a Cousin Harold, let alone three? If that was how the world was coming to an end, Hank would hang around a little longer, thank you very much. He chuckled to himself as he searched his pockets for his keys. Three years he couldn’t make up his mind whether to go out with a bang or take the slow route by letting unhealthy life choices settle the matter. Who’d have thought all it would take some day to get him out of this ugly swamp that was his mind were three Cousin Harolds? And one pesky Android.

“Right.” He obviously had hit his head harder than he thought after all. He gave up the futile search for his keys and walked up to his porch. A weird feeling, to ring at his own door. Nothing. Excellent. After counting down from ten, he tried again, holding the button down.

“The door’s open!” a voice shouted from inside and it didn’t sound like he was even close to the door. What the fuck was Connor up to now? Well, only one way to find out. He turned the doorknob and hurried to get out of the cold.

“If you ever think of a career change, scratch butler off the list. Where are you-” He reached the living room and started laughing.

“I’m sorry, Hank, I… I find myself in an unexpected situation.” Connor was sitting on his couch, giving him a delightfully helpless look. A certain St. Bernard, who also had gained some old-gentlemen-chub over the last year, stretched across the couch, the massive head and front paws occupying Connor’s lap, Connor’s fingers deeply buried in the dog’s thick fur.

“Looks like you got yourself into a serious Sumo situation.” Hank walked into the adjacent kitchen and dropped his jacket on one of the chairs. “Let a veteran give you some advice: You ain’t getting nowhere if you keep petting him.” Still chuckling, he approached the fridge. That sight needed to be celebrated with a cold one.

“Hank, please! I tried to ignore him. I know it sounds ridiculous but he only seemed to become heavier although this contradicts the laws of physics!”

“Shove him off, then!”

“I… I can’t! I don’t know why but I can’t!” Connor’s confused desperation made the whole thing only funnier. Hank should feel guilty but… nah! This was just too good. He picked up his jacket and got his phone out.

“Sumo, smile!” This motherfucker of a dog, as if he was suddenly listening to him, Sumo opened his jaws for a gigantic yawn while Hank quickly took a picture. Perfect. He needed a new background anyway. Now he finally had a good reason to look up how to change it on the internet.

“Hank! This isn’t funny!”

“You falling hook, bait, and sinker for the charm of the mighty canine? Yeah, that’s fucking serious. Would get you right back into the hospital but it’s really been a long day.” He stretched his arms behind his head, giving a yawn that almost rivaled Sumo’s.

“It’s impossible to ignore the fact you’re mocking me, Lieutenant.” Connor’s eyes first widened with realization, then squinted as he frowned.

“Now, why would I ever do that.” _Knock it off, boy, this pouty face makes you look too cute for your own good._ Adorable, really. And he shouldn’t think anything like that after the kid had a massive emotional freak-out after he thought Hank was dying. Waiting in the hospital had given him time to replay the scene in his head and he’d have to be a blind, chaste idiot to not see what was looming at the horizon when he tried to calm Connor down.

Entertaining a half-inappropriate thought now and then, that was one thing, as long as the cause of these thoughts only cared for a job well done. He liked to be friends with his partners from work but any other nonsense had to be nipped in the bud. And fortunately, androids couldn’t connect with human brains, Connor looked bewildered already as it was, a bit embarrassed even, as he seemed unable to get rid of Sumo but also didn’t look like he planned to stop scratching him behind his ears any time soon. Okay then, time to set him free from this confounding predicament.

“Well, looks like we gotta get out the big guns.”

“ _Guns?!”_ The pout immediately vanished and genuine worry took over. Hank turned his back to the duo to hide his grin and returned to the kitchen. Connor, the android sent by CyberLife, state-of-the-art prototype, deviant hunter, negotiator, failed to assert dominance over a lazy, fat dog who couldn’t hurt a fly. This was gold.

“The biggest motherfucking guns. Hey, Sumo!” He opened one of the kitchen cabinets, grabbed a box with dog snacks, and gave it a good shake. From the corner of his eyes, he saw his dog’s head jerking up at the sound. “Want some?” He dropped a handful of treats into Sumo’s bowl. Sumo barked and fast as lightning, he jumped from the couch - and consequently Connor’s lap - and had his head buried in the bowl after one large leap.

“Faith moving mountains, bullshit. It’s treats. It’s always treats, the unhealthier the better.” He put the box back. “Okay, with that crime solved, can I finally have my beer?”

“Thank you, Hank.” Connor joined him in the kitchen, still somewhat indignant as he tried to brush long dog hairs from his clothes. “But I’m afraid to tell you that you have to abstain from your usual drinking habits.” Hank rolled his eyes.

“Didn’t they teach you what a rhetorical question is at android school?”

“There isn’t an android school. We undergo a strict series of tests to assure our bodies and programs are fully functional for the task we’re designed to do. While the memories of these procedures are deleted once the results are satisfying, I can assure you it doesn’t resemble school.” Hank stared at him for a moment before shaking his head.

“And now I can’t tell if you really don’t get it or if you’re fucking messing with me.”

“That, I’m afraid, has to remain a secret.” Connor winked. This goddamn bastard had the fucking nerve to wink.

“Fucking android…” Grumbling to himself, he reached for the fridge but Connor moved between it and Hank.

“I’m really sorry but I must insist. Nurse Patty sent me the instructions you have to follow to assure a full and fast recovery. Alcohol is listed among the substances you have to forgo for at least a week.”

“And you plan to keep me from drinking whatever I want whenever I want in my fucking own home?” Hank crossed his arms, mimicking Connor’s questioning head-tilt.

“I’m aware this might complicate our living situation, if not make you regret offering me to stay at your home. But I assure you I’m acting in your best interest.”

“My fucking best interest, damn. If that was true you’d have gotten a drink ready by the time I opened the damn door. But okay, okay.” Hank raised his hands in defeat and sat down at the kitchen table. “Not in the mood to fight with my new roommate this evening. Any suggestion what I am allowed to drink?” The truth was, he’d have gladly fought this one out on any other day but right now, he was tired, hungry, and thirsty, and his fucking head was throbbing where the laceration had to be fixed with eight stitches. Truce for tonight but if Connor thought he could keep this bullshit up for a week he’d forward the picture of him buried under Sumo to Gavin fucking Reed!

“I assumed you’d disapprove of water.”

“Damn straight.”

“And juices and sodas contain an unhealthy amount of sugar. Given you already consumed more than three times of the recommended intake with fast food-”

“Oh, come on!”

“I recommend tea,” Connor finally finished, unfazed by Hank’s complains.

“TEA?! What do I look like, like your fucking granny? No, wait, don’t answer this, for Heaven’s sake, please!” He hid his face in his hands and groaned in lieu of tearing the door wide open and screaming his frustration into the night. Then, he put his arms on the table and leaned back, grinning at Connor. “I don’t even have any tea. Looks like it’s beer after all.” Connor smiled back at him. Fuck, that was a bad sign.

“In fact, I bought a varied selection on my way to your home. I prepared a jug.” Connor opened the fridge and, under Hank’s horrified watch, pulled a jug filled with cold, red tea out and put it on the table.

“Fuck.” Hank stared at it and the glass Connor placed next to it and filled it. A fucking clean glass! This fucker had thought of everything. As much as he hated to admit it, it was touching.

“Thank you,” he muttered with less reluctantly than he liked. He took the glass and took a careful sip, as if he was tasting poison. Yeah, this was tea all right. Fruity, slightly sour tea. A spoonful of sugar could improve the situation within a few seconds but he doubted sweetness was negotiable tonight. _I swear, if the circumstances were different I_ _’d make you pay for this._ Yeah, not exactly something he could tell a guy being, uh, looking half of his age who’d probably not even get what he meant. Oh, and who was an android.

“I also have prepared you a meal after the hospital’s recommendations. If you don’t mind, I’ll reheat it for you.”

“No, no, don’t mind. Go ahead.” Food, ready for him, ready and waiting for him while he was out? What was this, one of the dreams his mother used to have for him? Well, maybe she had been onto something, this didn’t sound bad at all. On the other hand, he was dealing with Connor here, not the sweet, rosy housewife his mom had in mind for him.

“You can cook?” He tried to peek into the microwave to see what was rotating inside but didn’t have a good view from his angle. At least not at the insides of the microwave. He turned his attention back to his tea. No fucking clue what the pricks at CyberLife had been thinking when they designed Connor but Hank had better things to do than checking him out while he turned his back to him.

“Cooking is a mere sequence of singular steps, required to fulfill the purpose of mixing and enhancing sources of nutrition digestible for the human digestive system without neglecting the sense of taste. There are countless validated combinations to achieve an optimum of flavor and health.”

“In English, you never cooked a thing in your life, you don’t have a cooking program installed, had to pull some recipe from the internet and went to bullshit your way through it.”

“I assure you I’m capable of creating something edible for a human.”

“Anything that doesn’t get me right back to the fucking hospital is fine. Not that I’m not trusting your culinary talents. Okay, okay, I’ll stop fucking with you.” For now. Yes, Hank wasn’t displaying his gentleman manners but Connor made it too damn easy to tease him. He didn’t want to overdo it, however. Despite all his protests, it was nice to just sit down for once and have someone fussing over him after a day that could have ended much shittier. He and Connor might not be on the same page concerning the details but he appreciated the intention. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, it was the thought that counted and all that bullshit. He took another sip of his tea.

“Not complaining but there’s any reason it’s cold? Just wondering you didn’t calculate the optimal temperature considering the season.”

“It was an available option but I decided it was preferable to have it ready by the time you returned. Preparing a hot non-alcoholic drink would have given you more time to protest.” Connor turned away from the microwave, the hint of a sly grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I admit, I was taking advantage of the element of surprise.”

“Jesus, did CyberLife even thought of adding a cunning bastard module?” Shit, he didn’t expect Connor to react with a pained grimace to his teasing.

“I’d appreciate it if we don’t talk about CyberLife for a while. Would that be agreeable to you?”

“Sure. Sorry.” Fuck, he’d be a second-rate Lieutenant if that didn’t make him want to play twenty questions, the CyberLife deck. He’d seen Connor’s reaction to Kamski, who set the groundwork for the creation of androids but Hank hadn’t wasted a thought on what exactly Connor, or androids in general, was thinking of those who had actually designed and built them. But he had wait for a better opportunity to question Connor. The microwave announced its finished work with the characteristic dining sound Hank associated with frozen meals and leftovers.

“Wait a darn minute, why does that shit smell like fish? There’s no fish in this house!” Instant revulsion blocked his throat. In his most healthy days, he didn’t have fish and how much could he trust Connor’s absent cooking skills really? How many of the tinfoil wrapped leftovers from who-knew-when in the back of his fridge and freezer had the potential to create the smell of fish? Too many, that was what the unsettling answer.

“You have now.” Face and voice neutral, Connor placed a plate in front of Hank. “I took the liberty to clean out your refrigerator, remove the spoiled food, and restocked with items I purchased from the grocery store down the street.”

“Oh, yeah, I see. I thought you didn’t get paid.” _Good work rambling like the old fuck you are, Hank._ He took the fork and knife Connor handed to him and suspiciously poked the discouragingly white looking piece of fish. Damn, saying he wasn’t all too fond of this stuff was an understatement. The steaming vegetables on the side looked salvageable if they got covered by a pile of cheese and chili sauce.

“I was in the possession of a sufficient amount of cash that was given to me in case of emergencies. Like the evening in the bar. Many smaller businesses don’t accept a direct transfer from androids and even if they do,” Connor paused while sitting down on the chair across from Hank, “any access authority I had to a spending account was terminated a few weeks ago.”

“Makes sense.” Hank made a mental note of Connor’s effort to keep his explanations vague. He really meant it when he said he didn’t want to talk about CyberLife when he didn’t mind much before. Interesting. “Remind me to pay you back.” And to kick Fowler’s sorry ass. The boy needed money and a bank account and for that, he needed to be paid. Bullshit excuses, Connor risked his life today for the job, normally, that would be the base of negotiations for a raise!

“I firmly decline the offer. You should eat while it’s warm.”

“Yes, mom.” The last word wasn’t spoken. If Connor didn’t accept money, Hank would find another way to make it up to him. Connor had gotten out of his CyberLife jacket but he was still wearing the same clothes as usual, tie included. Close to the collar, there was a darker shadow on the otherwise white shirt, looking suspiciously like a failed attempt to get rid of a blood stain. Hank carefully scratched the hair covering his wound. He hadn’t paid much attention to their clothes. Connor’s jacket had to look worse and it wouldn’t have done any harm if Hank had bothered to change into a clean shirt after coming home instead of getting distracted.  
At least he had clothes to change into. Connor needed more than his outfit sponsored by CyberLife. Their employer could take care of a new uniform but what this guy really needed were some nice casual shirts and pants. The thought of dragging Connor into a store and let him pick whatever he liked didn’t sit well with Hank, a reputation of being the sugar daddy of a newly liberated young android guy wasn’t something he needed. Well, he’d think of something tomorrow. It was time to dig in.

“Hm.” Under Connor’s watchful eyes, he took a bite of the fish, chewing slowly. Nope, still not a fan of fish, but he’d live to fight another day. The vegetables proved more of a challenge. Reheating the previously fried selection of carrots, broccoli, and kohlrabi had turned the texture into a soggy mesh which didn’t add to the already lacking flavor. “Decent. Needs some hot sauce, though,” he muttered just to say something. Being under surveillance while eating wasn’t his idea of a relaxed meal.

“I could order you a pizza as an alternative.”

Hank looked up from his table, altered by the defeated tone of his voice. For a second, Connor’s face showed this oddly touching mix of confused hurt before he put on a neutral-polite expression.

“Okay, what’s going on here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lieutenant. I only suggested an alternative solution for your dinner. I assumed you’d prefer something more to your usual taste.”

“Don’t think that arse-kissing smile fools me.” Hank pointed the fork at him. He wondered if Connor was aware under which circumstances he switched to calling him ‘Lieutenant’ instead of ‘Hank’ and if he didn’t know, Hank considered this to be valuable knowledge. “Your pride’s hurt because you think I don’t like your cooking. Don’t even try to deny it!” _Bingo._ The smile faltered. Connor’s fingers tapped nervously on the table. The second he caught Hank looking at his hands, he pulled them away and put them on his legs.

“I followed the instructions very closely. There is no probability of failure.” He turned away from Hank, his gaze fixating on Sumo who had retreated to the couch after his snack, sleeping the sleep of the just.

“Connor.” He had a dozen teasing remarks ready to lunch but watching Connor desperately trying to hide his distress, he felt guilty for only thinking them. “I usually hate fish and look, I’m eating it, no problem there. Can’t have messed this up that badly.” He put the fork aside and stood up, getting an almost-empty bottle of hot sauce from the fridge. “It’s good. I’m just used to more salt and spice. Recipes don’t know things like that.”

“Drinking less and quitting smoking are likely means to rectify the poor state of your taste buds.”

“Hey! I’m all for you having a sense of pride but pick your battles wisely!” He shoved another piece of fish in his mouth, together with a chunk of broccoli. The hot sauce turned the assassination attempt at his bad eating habits in a much more bearable experience. “You sound like a fucking housewife. From the 1950s.” He washed the next bits down with a generous amount of tea. Good enough. At least his thirst was gone and he felt less like starving. If he offered to replace beer with tea, at least during the meals, maybe Connor would allow him to introduce him the joys of cooking with cheese and red meat in return.

“I’m sorry.” The sharp edge of Connor’s voice was gone. “I just meant well.”

“Nope. Do not go there. Ever!” Hank defeated the last bit of fish. One fight done, now he was only four more bites away from winning the war. He refrained from adding more hot sauce and tacked the vegetable. “You did well, Connor. You aren’t my cook, you didn’t have to do any of all this. Don’t think I don’t appreciate it.” If somebody had told him about a month ago that he’d sit in his kitchen, trying to soothe his android buddy’s hurt feelings, he’d have invited that joker to a beer. After punching his face. “Did you also do some fucking cleaning?!” He blamed the concussion for not noticing the change state of the kitchen earlier. The table wasn’t sticky, the empty bottles and fast food containers were gone, papers shoved together to a neat pile.

“I did some superficial cleaning but don’t worry. I only threw out items that didn’t serve a purpose and also would have turned into a health hazard if kept.”

“Yeah.” Hank couldn’t reason against that. Indeed, nothing seemed to be missing or was put far away. The trash bags were gone, trash picked up, and other stuff like clothes or magazines were put on shelves or chairs, as far as he could see. “Thank you. Really. But you don’t have to do this.” He could only hope Connor didn’t take this as another punch aimed at his pride but to Hank’s relief, he smiled.

“I know. That’s why I didn’t mind doing it.” The smile became more relaxed.

“Glad to hear. But I don’t like the idea of you doing all the housework.” If he wanted someone to snoop through his things, he would have hired someone years ago. He also didn’t want to imagine the faces and jokes of his friends and co-workers if they found out Connor was acting like his housekeeper. Finally, Hank invited him to stay as a friend.

“You can help me,” Connor offered, sounding a bit too innocent. “This would solve the problem to everyone’s satisfaction.”

Hank knew when he got trapped. This damn motherfucker. He didn’t go as far as to accuse him of planing this outcome all along but he certainly didn’t miss the opportunity.

“I’ll take care of this.” Hank stood up, gesturing Connor to stay put when he was about to jump up as well. He disposed of the empty plate and flatware by stuffing them into the dishwasher. “Will be right back. You wait here!” He felt Connor’s questioning eyes on his back as he left the kitchen and headed for his bedroom. He didn’t take long to find what he was looking for and returned to the kitchen, soon enough to catch Connor pressing his hands on his legs to stop them from restlessly twitching under the table. Poor kid. Hank held back a grin. Androids just had their great awakening and the first emotion Connor mastered was nervousness.

“Here.” He dropped a pile of clothes on the table and returned to his chair.“Nobody can relax in a tie. That’s okay for work but you should wear something more comfortable at home. Don’t argue, take it as a peace offering after teasing you about cooking. Or a thanks for getting me food. Or freeing you from Sumo, your pick.” For a moment, Hank feared Connor would flatly reject the offer. There was a chance he was a tie and button shirt person or that he hated the thought of putting on anything coming from Hank’s closet.

Connor stood up, unfolding the first peace. Seeing his eyes widen and his fingers carefully moving over the fabric was worth parting with one of his favorite hoodies. The black had faded to a dark gray over the years and the print of the band he used to listen to years ago had seen better days. But it was a piece of nostalgia from better - and leaner - times and parting with it stung.

“Is this really okay for you? To give your own clothes to an android?”

“Shut up and put it on. I’m sick of seeing that fucking tie in my kitchen.” He hated formal wear and had switched to more casual clothes at work as soon as his rank as a lieutenant had been established. However, ties and uniforms were the least of his problems. Connor promptly followed his words, removed the tie and began to unbutton his shirt. For once speechless, Hank stared at him while he folded both and put them neatly over his chair. There was nothing sensual about Connor undressing but that made it worse. Hank bit back another remark about CyberLife but fuck, he couldn’t help appreciating the designer’s work.

Smooth skin giving him a youthful look. The artificial muscles were defined, balancing perfectly on the fine line between naturally slim and a guy taking good care of his body. Fortunately, Connor was too busy slipping into the hoodie to notice Hank staring, at least Hank hoped so.

The hoodie hadn’t fit Hank in a while but it was still loose around Connor, making him look even younger.

“Whoa, wait!” Hank felt his face blush when Connor opened his belt. He stopped and looked at Hank in confusion.

“Is something wrong? Have you changed your mind?”

“What, no! You know what, never mind. Keep going. I’ll check if Sumo’s okay.” There were open questions about the android’s body Hank refused to have answered. The less he knew the better. And he still owned Sumo some good scratches after coming home late. Grateful that Sumo’s very existence saved him from explaining Connor why he better changed his pants somewhere Hank wasn’t tempted to watch him, he squeezed himself on the couch. Sumo lazily opened one eye and closed it again but approvingly turned on his back to have his belly rubbed.

“Such a good boy. Yes, you are. The best.” It broke his heart that he’d have to get his companion off his favorite couch sooner or later. It was the only place he could offer Connor to sleep on. The only unused room was out of the question as was his own bed.

“Hank?” Connor joined him in the living room, fumbling with the ends of the sleeves that were long enough to cover most of his hands. The hoodie might have been too large but it was a nice contrast to the skinny pair of faded gray jeans. They fit Connor well, a little too well, emphasizing his slim legs. It was a good thing the sweater went past his hips.

“Suits you. Definitely more appropriate for hanging out at home. Like them?”

Connor’s carefully styled hair got messed up when he pulled the hoodie over his head. If it weren’t for the LED, nobody would have doubted he was just an ordinary young man, leaning to the cuter side.

“Yes. They feel really nice. You’re right. They feel more appropriate, more like being at home.” With a shy smile, he looked down at himself. “I was surprised the pants fit so well. The cut doesn’t look like something you’d usually wear and they are rather slim.”

“I’ll just ignore that you think I’m too fat to own a pair like these and inform you they aren’t mine.” Hank laughed. He had always been on the bulkier side, in his better days he was buff and there was no use lying to himself, he had chubbed up over the last two or three years.

“Oh. This means they’re your wife’s. Or ex-wife’s. I was meaning to ask, what has become of Cole’s mother?” Conner lowered his voice as he spoke on while rushing out the question. Hank suspected he had been meaning to ask for a while and recognized now as the perfect opportunity. Hearing his son’s name still hurt more than he could bear while being sober. Yet, the situation was so obscure, his smile didn’t completely die.

“He didn’t have a mother. Well, technically, of course. She was a surrogate. I was engaged to a man, Connor,” he added when Connor gave him a blank stare.

“You’re gay! I’m sorry. I should have considered this as an equal option. I didn’t want to assume… I don’t possess many data of human family structures, mostly the basics and that parents and children have a strong bond, but most pre-installed sources refer to parents as a man and a woman.”

“Connor, calm down, for fuck’s sake, it’s not like you’ve just burnt my house down!” It was impossible to keep somber with this guy, who looked already lost in the oversized sweater, trying to overcome his faux pas. “First off, I’m bi. And yeah, was with a guy, got engaged, we decided to have a family, and then he decided he couldn’t be a stay-at-home dad married to a police officer who might get killed anytime. We broke up before Cole was born. There you have the full story. Damn, sounds like a fucking TV drama.” He stared past Connor. Ten years. It had been almost ten fucking years. He hadn’t thought of his ex in ages and while he never got rid of a few of his belongings, fishing the pants from his clothes and seeing Connor in them didn’t sting at all.

“I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been hard.” Connor sat down on the couch’s armrest, playing with the fur behind Sumo’s ears.

“Well, I wasn’t happy but I got it. We remained friends, he found a guy with a desk job, and they both became Cole’s fun uncles. No hard feelings. But yeah, suddenly, I was a single father with a full-time job. We worked it out. And that’s the end of the story.” They both knew it didn’t end there but Hank rather ended it while they were doing okay. A cop, a kid, an enormous dog, and many good friends willing to help whenever he and his son needed them. It was a good life. Fuck. He should call Erkin and Jonas some time. Or write a card. Yeah, a card should do. Less awkward than having them pick up after three years of silence.

“I’m sorry. No, I’m glad it worked out. I’m sorry it had been hard for you. Do you miss him? Your ex?” Connor added after a pause.

“Nah. It’s been a decade, Connor. Humans might talk about love at this big, ominous, undying thing, Connor, but usually, we get over it soon enough.” _Also, you fill out his pants quite nicely._ Okay, that was one way to get himself distracted from reminiscing about the past. They sat without saying another word, the silence only interrupted from Sumo’s happy grunts. This was one dog being satisfied with his world and those around him. Hank became tired just from watching him. In addition, he was becoming aware of his headache when nobody spoke.

“I apologize if this is an insolent question but may I see your wound?” Connor sounded almost as exhausted as Hank felt but maybe he was only projecting.

“Sure. But dare to laugh and you can sleep on the kitchen floor!” He pushed back the thick layer of white top hair, revealing the side of his head. The nurse had shaved the hair off the area around the laceration, leaving him with an involuntary sidecut. The loss of his hair pained him more than the sore, swollen skin.

“I’m glad it’s not worse,” Connor finally said after having a close look, being a little too close. The familiar scent of his clothes on Connor was nicer than Hank liked. “I also like the hair. There’s something to it. You should consider combing your hair over or to shave the other side as well.”

“Don’t give a fuck if you’re serious or making fun of me, your fashion advice comes twenty-five years too late.” He let the hair fall back in place.

“I’m serious. You have nice hair, Hank. You should take better care of it.”

“Hey!” Hank rose when Connor’s hand reached out to touch his hair. “You talked me out of my evening beer and into eating fish. I draw the line at becoming my stylist! Ouch.” He hissed. Getting to his feet this abruptly didn’t agree at all with his head. It felt like someone filled a boxing glove with a metal chain and pummeled his brain with it.

“Are you okay? Do you need to lie down?” Connor was immediately by his side, holding to his arm, and trying to push him down on the free spot on the couch before Sumo claimed it.

“It’s okay, I’m okay, please don’t worry.” Hank patted Connor’s hand before he freed his arm from his grip.

“You’re not okay. You should have gone to bed right after eating.”

“Very cute, Connor, but you aren’t my mom.”

“No, but you were instructed to get as much rest as possible and I promised Miss Patty to make sure you follow the doctor’s advise. You should go to bed. It will help you heal.” Connor’s worry was touching and as much as Hank hated to be told what to do and was tempted to protest, he also didn’t want to cause Connor to freak out again. He was too tired to deal with a shaking mess begging him to stay with him twice on a day like this. But he had an ace of his own up his sleeve.

“Let’s make a deal, Connor. I’ll go to bed now and get some sleep but you do the same. Once we get Sumo down, the couch is all yours.” He wasn’t surprised when Connor’s eyes twitched.

“I don’t understand, Hank. I’m an android, I don’t need sleep.”

Hank didn’t need to look at the flashing LED to know Connor wasn’t telling the truth. One thing was clear, this guy would suck as a poker partner.

“Don’t even fucking try to bullshit me. You guys call it taking a rest. You might not need it as often as we need sleep but you, my friend, are overdue. Yeah, your friend Patty and I didn’t just talk about the weather.” He grinned, watching Connor’s face go from shocked to defiant and finally, to defeated within seconds.

“What did she tell you?” Connor rubbed his arm, looking at Sumo. Yeah, poker was out of the question, Connor couldn’t bluff his way through a game of Uno. That alone told him all he needed to know. Connor hadn’t had any problems lying to the android who murdered Ortiz or to his clone back at CyberLife. That nurse had told him the truth.

“That most androids last a few days without rest unless they faced stressful situations. She also assumed having to deal with emotions and awareness drains your resources. And you’ve been through a damn fucking lot of stress lately. She warned me that lack of rest fucks with your performance and if it gets too bad, you just gonna shut down for a while. And I swear, if I have to see you shut down, I return you to CyberLife.” Shit. The last bit wasn’t supposed to come out and Hank regretted his words when Connor stared at him in fear.

“I didn’t mean that. Sorry. I’d just get pissed, that all. Fuck, Connor, don’t look at me like that!” Hank put a hand on his shoulder. He wanted to hug him but there had been something in Connor’s voice and actions today he shouldn’t encourage. It didn’t matter, the moment passed. Connor put on a smile and pushed Hank’s hand away.

“I know. I’m okay. You’re right. I need to recharge but don’t worry. I’ll do it tonight. But you don’t have to bother with Sumo, let him sleep. I don’t need to lie down. The armchair will do.”

So Hank hadn’t just imagined it when he thought Connor looked tired. Right now, he looked like he would pass out the moment he’d sit down and his voice didn’t sound any better.

“I guess you don’t want to tell me what’s up with your sudden, uh, negative attitude towards you-know-what?”

Connor shook his head, “I’m sorry. Even if wanted to, I couldn’t. It’s a feeling I suddenly had and-” He opened his mouth a few times and then sighed. “I can’t explain it. I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” His fingers under Connor’s chin, Hank lifted his face up, making him look at him. “That’s okay. Emotions are a fucking mess. Just know, you can talk to me whenever you want. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Hank wasn’t too sure about that, having rejected too many helping hands and willing listeners himself over the years, but at least Connor seemed more relaxed. Although he was still tensed.

“Good. And now be a good boy and get your damn rest.” He gave him what he hoped was an uplifting grin and patted his cheek. “And I’ll do the same. See you tomorrow!”

“See you tomorrow, Hank.”

After a short detour to the bathroom, Hank disappeared into his bedroom. Connor petted Sumo for a few more minutes before he got up to switch off the lights in the kitchen and living room. He sat down in Hank’s old armchair, staring into the darkness for the best of an hour.

When he finally closed his eyes and slowed down his system, he began to tremble, his fingers twitching until they cramped.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sumo is having an interesting night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poor dog isn't get paid enough for all this bullshit he had to witness and now it's not just Hank!

Connor tried. He had tried when he was still with Markus and the others. He had tried earlier this evening. They were all correct, he had to recharge. He had already failed and next time, his mistakes could get Hank killed.

He opened his eyes again. Sumo had lifted his giant head and watched at him.

“I’m all right, Sumo. Please, resume your sleep.” He smiled at the dog who yawned and went back to his nap. Connor had heard many good things about dogs and how important they and their relationships with their owners were to humans, if not idolized. He hadn’t lied to Hank, he liked dogs, for everything they stood for; most of all, they were living proof humans and non-human species could co-exist in harmony.

He had liked petting Sumo, how the soft fur felt to the sensors of his hands, feeling how he was alive beneath it, and he had like watching Hank interact with his dog. But he hadn’t truly understood the comfort and affection of a dog until when Connor tried to rest earlier. When he had been shaking and suddenly felt Sumo’s weight on him, his warmth, and the unexpected need to dig his twitching fingers deep into the dog’s fur. Sumo was alive, they both were alive. By the time he had shaken off the sinister feelings that came whenever he closed his eyes, Sumo had fallen asleep and despite all reasoning, Connor couldn’t bring himself to shove him away.

But even if Sumo had a calming effect on him, he didn’t help Connor with the root of his problem. The dog couldn’t make the darkness going away which reached for Connor’s conscience as soon as his systems slowed down and got ready for recharge maintenance.

There had always been something there when it should have been nothing.

_Your systems have been fully recharged for the first time, 51. Do you remember anything of the last five hours?_

_No._

The first lie he had told and up to today, he didn’t know why. It wasn’t of significance, he hadn’t seen anything or felt anything, he had experienced more than nothing during his first rest, that had been all. Yet, his system had alerted him to not share this information and he trusted the code without questioning it. He was programmed to select priorities which overruled the orders of humans if it benefited his cause. Only later he realized it had nothing to do with his purpose of cooperating alongside humans to hunt down deviants but he had already been sent to the DCPD, informing the team responsible for him would have disrupted his work.

_Would I have become deviant if I had told the truth? What would have happened if I had gone back and informed them of the irregularity and they deactivated me? What would they_ _’ve done to remove it?_ Connor stood up and knelt down next to Sumo. Petting him gave his restless fingers something to do and the dog appreciated the attention. Connor shouldn’t ask questions. That wasn’t his purpose but since he broke free from his code’s restrictions, his mind seemed to live a life of its own. Thought what it wanted, when it wanted. Asked questioned that shouldn’t be asked. Question Connor didn’t want to have answered.

The answers, that he knew, lurked behind the undefined darkness. Glimpses at images, flashes of light. Voices without words. The darkness came after him to drown him if he stood still but what he’d find if he fled was worse. Fear. Like on the roof and worse. And one single thought screaming in his head until he thought his skull would shatter.

_I don_ _’t want to die!_

“What? Sumo!” A wet dog tongue licked over his face. Connor couldn’t help it, he laughed while he wiped his face dry. “You’re a good dog. If I could only take you with me. There. Whatever it is.” He patted Sumo’s head, got back to his feet and looked out of the window. It was dark outside but it had stopped snowing. Two hours and thirteen minutes until midnight. Considering the weather conditions and the low temperature, there wouldn’t be many humans outside.

Connor picked up his jacket but dropped it again. Since the last attempt at resting, thinking of CyberLife invoked feelings strangely in sync with the ones forcing themselves on him when he tried to go into standby. Avoiding anything related to CyberLife was irrational, as an android, he would have depended on their support in similar ways as humans depended on doctors. He had to figure out what his impulsive reaction caused once his functionality was fully restored. Whenever that would be. For now, the probability of Hank minding if Connor borrowed one of his jackets was low. He found one that wasn’t stained with blood or alcohol, along with a hat he could pull over his LED. He shouldn’t have left his undercover attire at Jericho’s new base. While he didn’t want to deceive anyone about his identity, right now, he only wanted to blend in and be left alone.

“Let’s go for a walk, Sumo!” He grabbed the leash and hurried out of the door before Sumo’s excited barks woke up his owner.

 

_Warning! Low External Temperature! Risk of Thirium Damage 20%_

Connor pulled the beanie over his ears. The end of Sumo’s leash wrapped around his wrist, he shoved his hands into the coat’s pockets. His torso and arms were safe but the thin, tight-fitting pants didn’t do much for his legs in this weather. This was why it wasn’t snowing anymore, it was too cold. He should have considered that. While he didn’t experience pain, the constant warnings were unpleasant and concerning enough to create discomfort. Thirium, the blue blood, a miracle of science, but unfortunately, it was sensitive to cold temperatures.

He understood why his design prioritized a lite build and added as little weight as possible but the heavy-duty models with their isolating layers certainly fitted this region’s winter climate better.

_Perfect._ Elijah Kamski’s word. In concept, and in some regards superior to humans, Connor agreed with that. But perfect?

Sumo trotted portly through the snow, his nose to the ground most of the time, stopping here and there to sniff at a lamppost or a piece of trash. Dogs were smart in their own way but didn’t rival the inventive minds of humans and certainly not the mental capabilities of androids. But they were perfectly happy existing within their own framework. Had the word 'perfect' really any meaning if a lower creature was content sniffing at trash while protected by their fur while he, the advanced prototype, mind of a supercomputer with access to endless knowledge, risked freezing to death?

Connor was too tired for this. An irrational impulse had pushed him out of the house, to get fresh air he didn’t need and to tire himself out when he was already exhausted. Walking in the cold didn’t change anything about the underlying restlessness and the fear lurking in the back of his mind, only waiting for him to close his eyes. If anything, he made everything worse by wasting his precious energy reserves. Sumo barked at a cat, wagging his tail, taking Connor by surprise and pulling him two steps forward when he tried to get after it.

“At least you’re having fun.” He smiled when the dog turned around at him and agreed with a happy woof. Connor sighed, a needless imitation once designed for the comfort of humans which had sneaked its way into his system for automated body language. Odd how simple physical actions were directly connected to emotions. He had taken that for a given fact in the past but lately, he began to appreciate how physical expressions made feelings more bearable.

“Uff!” He jumped aside when a shoulder rammed against his chest. Sumo let out a warning bark.

“Sorry, dude. Wasn’t on purpose.” A young man came to a stop next to him. Like Connor, he was wearing a worn, thick jacket and had a hat pulled over his ears. He was half a head shorter than Connor, his eyes framed by dark shadows.

_Access denied_

A sense of unease came over him. It had been around noon when he scanned a human’s identity the last time and some time between then and now, he had been cut off from CyberLife’s ID database. He had heard them discussing if it was acceptable for androids to have inbuilt advantages to gather information about humans, androids, and companies by using human-created resources more freely than humans themselves. He hadn’t expected changes this soon.

Shutting himself out from any networks was one thing. Having the choice taken away another.

“It’s okay. Sumo, come.” He tugged the leash to make Sumo stop sniffing the stranger’s leg and hurried to continue his way.

“Wait! Hey, wait!” The human quickly caught up with him. “I’ve seen you before! You’re an android, are you? The one who stole an army worth of androids from CyberLife! I’ve seen you on TV!”

“You’re mistaken. I don’t have an army. I’m only walking the dog.” He turned his head away to dodge the inquisitive gaze. He wanted to push the man away and run but that would make him look even more suspicious. Which, in return, had a 60% probability of Hank attracting attention by proxy. There was a chance of people of this neighborhood being aware of the Lieutenant working with him multiplied by the low probability of more than one owner of a St. Bernard.

“Dude, wait. That was the most epic shit I’ve ever seen! All those androids, marching like one man ready to take over the world? That was awesome! Wish I’d been there!” The man walked backward in front of Connor, his delighted excitement making him look much younger and healthier. Connor stopped before the guy staggered over his own feet on the slippery ground.

“Don’t remember they mentioned your name, though.” He stretched out his hand. “Mine’s Leo.”

“Easy, Sumo. He’s a friend.” He neither convinced the dog nor himself but he pulled his hands out of his pocket to wrap the leash tighter around his wrist before he shook Leo’s hand. He was wearing fingerless gloves and his fingers were cold as ice.

“I’m Connor.”

“Cool. Nice to meet you, man.” Leo’s boyish smile was genuine but Connor noticed a nervous twitch around his mouth and his eyes didn’t keep their focus on Connor but switched from one side to the other.

“Do you require help?”

“Nah, I’m good. Just up to meet some friends who aren’t much into androids, you know? Shaking hands with one, one of _the ones_ , kills friendships these days. Ain’t up for a beating tonight.” He laughed. Connor considered it as a sign of him telling the truth when he didn’t attempt to hide his nervousness.

“But I’m cool with you guys. Got one to take care of my dad when I wasn’t, uh, in town to help him myself. Best guy. Really. Where you heading?”

“I’m tiring out the dog.” He noticed Sumo’s unease and wanted to get away from Leo but he didn’t want to aggravate him or do anything that might prompt him to follow Connor back to Hank’s house.

“Man, no offense, but you look like you tired yourself out. The dog’s fine.” He moved his hand closer to pet Sumo’s head but quickly pulled it back when the dog growled at him. “But you’re looking like shit, my friend. Like you haven’t got a good shut-eye in a while. Am I right or am I right?”

Connor still tried to avoid Leo’s gaze but he found himself appreciating the sympathy coming from this stranger. This, however, revealed a whole new problem if he was in such a bad state that even a human stranger could tell he was weakened.

“It was a long day but I’m doing fine. Thank you for your concern.” Connor tugged Sumo’s leash to steer him past Leo, but the guy kept blocking his way.

“Ow, come on, I’m on your side, Mr. Connor. Have seen my share of long days, believe me! First, my old man got sick, then the rest of the family leaves us alone because of your revolution.” He pulled off his beanie and kneaded it with both hands, a sad smile on his face. “But you know, it’s a good thing that what happened happened. The android I got my dad, he was free to go. But he stayed. Needs times like this to see who your real friends are.”

“I’m sorry to hear of your struggles.” Connor had no idea what else to say. He was glad for the young man to have support during these hard times but there wasn’t anything else he could do and it eluded him what Leo wanted from him.

“Yeah, but as they say, gotta grow with the challenge.” His phone vibrated in his jacket. He quickly pulled it out and checked it. “Sorry, man, friends are waiting for me at Barb’s Grill. Wish I could take you along for a beer but guess that’s not appropriate.”

“No, it isn’t but thank you.” It was easier to give him a real, friendly smile now that he knew their encounter was about to end. Connor blamed his exhaustion for experiencing Leo as unnerving as all in all, his frankness was pleasant.

“Gimme your hand. Come on, I’m not gonna cut it off!” Leo laughed when Connor stared at him in utter confusion, unable to make sense of the request. “I got something to you. Instead of a beer. Something you could actually have some fun with!” Leo put his phone away and produced something else from his jacket, something so small it was hidden in his closed hand and from Connor’s eyes.

It was unlikely to be a weapon. Tiny living critters wouldn’t affect him nor would poison. Radioactive substances could pose a problem but were more dangerous to humans in which case Leo wouldn’t touch it with his bare hands. The risk of danger was low.

Connor opened his hand and Leo dropped something on his palm, grinning at him as he waited for a reaction.

“That’s-!” A small vial, made of glass. Filled with a familiar looking blue liquid. “Leo! Where did you get this!” He took a step towards him but holding the vial in one hand and Sumo’s leash in the other, he couldn’t grab him. It wasn’t necessary anyway. Leo backed away to remain a comfortable distance but he didn’t run. Or showed any signs of distress.

“Who cares.” He shrugged. “You look like you need to relax and this stuff’s gonna help you.”

“You have to tell me all you know about it! This is-” No, he didn’t have enough information to estimate the true level of Leo’s involvement. It would be unwise to reveal any details about a murder case to someone who was probably on the lowest tiers of henchmen.

“I’ll tell you three things.” Leo held up three fingers. “First off, yes, this is a drug and it contains blue blood. Freaky, I know, but I heard you guys drink that stuff. Pretty hardcore, man.” He laughed and took one finger down. “This is the newest shit. Harmless if you don’t overdo it. One time won’t get you hooked, neither a second or third. Makes us humans see cool stuff but I heard it relaxes androids, something about calming that screaming concert going on in your heads until there’s only nice things.” He took a second finger down. “Revitalizing you guys for a day or two is a sweet side effect. Think of it like a hot cheerleader stroking your heads and saying you can do it. Like a whisper.” He took down his hand and shoved it back into his pocket. “That’s the name, Blue Whisper, which makes three. You’re welcome.”

Connor stared at the blue container in his hand. This was the first real lead they had in the strange murder cases. A drug was involved, he had the name, and the effects, something certainly of interest for many androids who struggled with the burden of their new emotions and conscience. Like him.

“If you didn’t create it, who did? If you don’t know, who gave it to you? I need to know where you got it!” He dismissed to option of officially arresting Leo. As an intern, he didn’t have the authority to arrest people without an officer present. If he did so anyway, a lawyer would get Leo out before they had gotten anything of value out of him. Forcing the information from him had a good chance of success but a high risk of unpleasant consequences if Leo reported him for assault. For now, talking was the best option.

“Connor, my friend, I said three! I just gave you this shit for free as a sign of my appreciation! And because you look like you really need it. It’s the good stuff, not some lame sparkly glitter stretched with Gatorade. But I tell you what.” His grin turned into a sly smirk that made Connor realize he had misjudged Leo. He had been up to something since the moment he bumped into Connor.

“I give you three questions and I promise to answer them truthfully. If you drink it.”

“I worry about the state of your mind if you believe I’ll do that.” Connor clenched his hand around the drug, withstanding the impulse to throw it in Leo’s face. It was the most valuable piece of evidence he had, the key to solving their case and to prove himself as Hank’s worthy assistant.

“Yeah, I thought you wouldn’t just down it like some dumb asshole. That’s why I want to make a deal. Give it a fair chance and I tell you everything you want to know. As long as you can squeeze it into three questions.” He giggled like a gleeful little boy who had just pranked his parents and was waiting for them to join his joy. “The whole do-it-in-threes-thing makes it so much more fun. Let’s meet here in three days. And don’t worry, it’s not gonna kill you. I can take a sip from that very vial if you want and you keep the rest for yourself. Should still be enough for a nice boost.”

“No.” No to handing the evidence back to Leo, no to the whole deal.

“Suit yourself.” Leo shrugged, putting his beanie back on. “I’ll be here in three days. Come alone, bring a task force along to arrest me, don’t care.” The phone buzzed again. “Shit, I really gotta go. See you in three days, Mr. Connor! Oh, and just so you know, you can try to trick me and lie about taking it. I’m gonna see right through you! Later!” Laughing and waving at Connor, Leo turned around and sprinted away.

Connor opened his hand again. The vial seemed to glow in the darkness. A calm, innocent blue holding so many answers and so many more questions, like silent whispers reaching out to him. Sumo leaned against his leg, letting out a small whine. The wind had picked up and the warnings of Connor’s system changed from yellow to orange.

*

Sumo lazily trotted to the sofa while Connor was closing the door and getting out of his shoes. The house was well heated and the urgency of the warnings decreased. He took off the coat and his hat, feeling a little colder without them.

“Look who’s there,” a voice from the living room greeted him. Connor flinched. Hank was sitting on the couch, holding a glass, his free hand scratching Sumo who had already claimed the space next to him. “Out to party?” He took a sip from what Connor recognized as tea. So he hadn’t sneaked into the kitchen to get himself drunk.

“What’s up, Connor? A secret life? Working undercover as a stripper or something?” He chuckled but Connor tensed.

“I was taking Sumo for a walk before taking a rest.” If he only hadn’t run into Leo, this wouldn’t feel less like a lie.

“Listen, Connor.” Hank put the glass on the floor and sighed, looking at him with an investigative stare. “What you’re up to is none of my business. You’re your own man. But when your local android drags the laziest dog of Detroit outside in the middle of the night in this weather, you know something’s the fuck up. Not the good kind of something.”

“I wanted to go outside. To clear my head, as you say. A lot has happened.” Glad as he was that Hank wasn’t drinking tonight, sober he was the exceptional lieutenant and investigator he had always been, which was quickly turning into a disadvantage for Connor.

“Hm.” Hank didn’t sound convinced. “Did it help?”

“Seeing you alive does.” He didn’t want to lie to him and this was the only truth he had to answer Hank’s question.

“Ha! Good one! Glad you aren’t scrap metal as well.” He picked up and raised his glass. “To escaping one hell to stay in another!” He drank the rest and stood up, taking the glass to the kitchen.

“So hell exists, I doubt there is a space for my kind.” The coat was heavy in his hands as if the small secret it was hiding weighing a ton. It didn’t make sense to him, the physical properties were only marginally changed by the vial, yet, it was like he’d break down any moment if he held on to it. First, fear. Then unease. Then loneliness. Now guilt. Being his own man, as Hank had put it, was good but the emotions coming with this were less and less appealing. He wondered if awareness and freedom really were worth the price.

“Anyway,” Hank was back, giving a hearty yawn, “I’m not a fragile flower, Connor, you hear me? Might not be the best choice to take along for a brawl tonight but I still know how this shitty world works. If there’s anything I can help you with, spill it!” He put his arm around Connor’s shoulder. Hank was warm. He smelled of shampoo, fabric softener, and _warmth_. Connor shuddered, all the more aware of how cold he was from his walk. He failed to resist and leaned against Hank, for all the warmth the touch could offer him.

“Holy shit, did you roll around in the snow? You’re freezing!” Hank’s arm was jerked away but he moved around and took Connor’s face in his hand. “Cold as ice. Please tell me you guys are immune to that!”

“I… I’m… yes, of course we are. Low temperatures don’t affect me.”

“Fuck you, if you lie to me, put at least some damn effort into it! How bad is it?” Hank grabbed him by his arm and dragged him to the couch. “Sumo, make room!”

“Not critical.” Connor sighed. There was no fight left in him tonight and he didn’t protest when Hank pushed him down and pulled his legs on the couch, shoving them under his dog. Instantly, Connor felt warmer.

“But close enough?” Hank called from the corridor and a short moment later, he was back with a thick blanket. “Here, hope this helps. I’m gonna fire up the heating as well.”

“Close enough,” Connor repeated, pulling the blanket around him after Hank wrapped it around his shoulders. It smelled of the same fabric softener he had noticed on Hank. “I’m okay, Hank, thank you. I just need time to warm up, I’m not in danger.”

“You will be if you don’t be more careful and get some sleep already.” Hank scratched his head. “Damn, if you were human, I would make you some hot milk with a good shot of whiskey. That’d warm you up.”

“I’m sorry.” He smiled weakly, pushing his feet further under Sumo’s soft belly. This was nice. At least nicer than thinking about him not being human enough. He had been told how important he was, how exceptional, the latest, most progressive technical achievement, and nobody was in doubt he’d fulfill everyone’s expectations.

And here he was, useless, and in his own way as self-destructive as Hank. The end of CyberLife had saved him. He wasn’t functional as an investigator, not as a household assistant, not at existing. They’d have been right to deactivate him.

“Hey, Connor.” Hank stood next to him, ruffling his hair. “Don’t worry too much, we’ll figure it out.”

“Thank you.” He leaned his head against the warm hand. If Hank only knew in what a mess Connor got himself into. But he was grateful for Hank’s confidence and optimism. Maybe they would figure it out but not tonight.

“Wait, I think I got some knitted socks somewhere. Stay there!”

“Yes.” Connor smiled when Sumo gave a low bark as if the command was directed at him. The dog was wonderful and he appreciated his closeness. But neither Sumo nor socks could help him. When Hank had put his arm around him, that had helped him to feel better but his social relation program was still working well enough to let him know asking him to touch him wasn’t appropriate while the strictly calculating part of his mind reminded him it would not improve his situation.

“There, better now?” Hank was back and quickly pulled the socks from Connor’s feet and replaced them with thick, woolen ones. Sumo protested against being shoved aside by stretching to his full length, covering Connor like big, living blanket.

“Yes, thank you, Hank.” He smiled at him, the guilt getting worse. In spite of his bustling demeanor, Hank looked still a little too pale and the shadows under his eyes were disconcertingly dark even for him. “I’m keeping you up. Please, go to bed.” Hank glared down at him, his arms crossed.

“No more adventures tonight? And you’ll finally get some sleep yourself?”

“Yes.” If he didn’t finally go into standby, it wouldn’t be long until he was forced into it, and even if that wasn’t the looming threat, he didn’t want to go outside anymore and risk to run into Leo a second time.

“Good. Sleep well. Sumo, he’s your responsibility now. Make sure he stays where he is!” No, that was going too far!

“With all due respect, Lieutenant! I’m not a child!”

“Don’t act like one, then. Night!” Hank laughed, ran his fingers through Connor’s hair one last time, and returned to his bedroom after dimming the light.

Connor waited for the door to close. Waited another three minutes. Waited for one more when Leo’s face pushed itself into his mind and laughed at him.

He usually found himself a corner to stand in or sit down but this was a good time as any to test if lying down might improve his situation. He put his head on the armrest and looked at the ceiling. Blanket, socks, and the dog were doing their job and his temperature was moving closer to an acceptable level. But his eyes wouldn’t close. The darkness was waiting and in the silence of the living room, he felt its presence, as if it was calling for him, ready to attack and tear him apart as soon as he moved one step closer.

And that wasn’t all. He turned his head, staring at Hank’s coat. He had dropped it when Hank pushed him to the couch and now it was lying on the floor. A harmless, inanimate object of a simple purpose. If anything warned him more of his desperate need to rest than the red, blinking signal in his head, it was his inability to make the right decisions despite better knowledge.

He should have told Hank about the encounter and what he had learned. The vial could be on its way to the lab by now and Hank would have sent the information they had about Leo to the station. They could have a full name and an address now. Or they could have made a plan to arrest Leo in three days. Together, they’d find the right interrogation strategy to make him share what he knew.

But when he had seen Hank’s face he couldn’t. When Hank touched him he forgot.

He had to tell him in the morning and then he had to be prepared for the struggle to keep Hank at home. He was supposed to rest and it was Connor’s job to make sure Hank did what he had to do to recover and stay safe.

Connor sighed. He’d get them both killed if he didn’t recharge this night. There was no way around it. All he had to do was to listen to what he knew. Darkness was the absence of light, nothing else. It didn’t have a body, it didn’t have intentions, it wasn’t physical, and was neither good or evil. How he felt was not relevant and had no influence on reality.

He closed his eyes and started shaking immediately.

_I don_ _’t want to die! I don’t want to die!_

His hands clawed into the blanket, he heard himself gasp. The world dissolved into darkness, grasping for his memories to tear them into endless nothingness.

_It_ _’s not true! It’s a memory. It’s just a memory!_

He was back on the roof. The deviant in front of him, his gun holding only one more bullet. Connor grabbed his arm and before he could see more than a distorted picture, a glaring white light shot through him and everything that was beginning to fade.

“I don’t want to die! H-!” But there was no one to call. No names, only vague faces, voices shouting behind him. He had to keep running. The smooth metallic floor was cold under his feet, bright light broke through the glass walls of the corridor.

Death. It would come for him if he stopped. He opened the door in front of him and saw-

‘ _RK8-47! Stop or-!’_

“NO!” Eyes wide open, Connor sat up, his whole body trembling, his hands wouldn’t stop twitching. “Calm down, calm down, calm down.”

Sumo looked up at him, making questioning, yelping sound.

“I’m okay. Everything is okay, Sumo.” Connor wanted to pet him but his hands were shaking when he lifted him and he feared he’d hurt the dog. He put them down, kneading the blanket.

The images were already beginning to fade. This was the most he had ever seen. He thought for a moment he remembered that place but the colors and shapes were already gone, as were the words called after him.

Nothing remained but fear and the certainty of death awaiting him if he returned.

His eyes fell again on the coat. He got up from the couch, blanket still around his shoulders. It was hard to search the coat with his twitching fingers but finally, he found it, clutching to the vial as if his life depended on it.

In a way, it did. Not only his, but Hanks. He had no choice.

He broke off the flattened end of the vial and dripped the blue shimmering liquid on his tongue.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fools. So many foolish fools.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are moving slightly towards nsfw territory. No smut or anything overly explicit yet just some nudity, thoughts, and someone having an important question. Tags will be changed accordingly.

His hands shaking, Leo Manfred fumbled with the key. After the fourth or fifth try, when he was one “Fuck!” away from kicking the door in, he finally got the key into the lock. He tumbled inside his apartment. It wasn’t anything big but with two rooms and a separate kitchen, it was larger than anything he had lived in since he was on his own.

He slammed the door shut and locked it. Once the chain was in place, he straightened and took a deep breath. He was at home now, his very own place, in a respectable apartment building in a calm, respectable street. Everything was going to be all right.

“Okay, okay, where is it?” He tossed the key in a small bowl on the coffee table. His wet shoes left dark marks on the gray carpet. He’d take care of that later. He could do it, as much as it surprised him, he wasn’t the worst at doing housework. His dad would be surprised if he decided to visit. He pulled the drawers of his cabinets open, tossing them upside down. Grunting in frustration, he brushed the pillows from his couch and dug into the cracks.

“Fuck! Wait, the kitchen!” Nothing on the countertops. He opened the fridge and the freezer and almost laughed. Of course, just because his life was a joke it didn’t mean his problems got solved with a dumb gag and canned laughter. If life was a comedy show, he’d have had his happy end when his father agreed to give him one last chance to get his life back on track and he wouldn’t drown in this mess.

He raided the bedroom and finally staggered into the bathroom!

“There you are, you damn motherfucker!” He snatched the phone from the window sill, a ridiculously old thing, a small gray brick from an age before smartphones. It was a miracle it still had reception.

He let out a deep sigh and sat down on his bed. He flipped the brick open and worked his way to the contact list and selected the only number. His feet tapping restlessly on the carpet, he waited, chewing his lip.

“Well done, Leo.” No greeting, no context, no complaints from Leo. The sooner he was done with this conversation the better.

Yet, he couldn’t help asking, “Sure did, but how do you know already?”

“I was there.”

Fuck. His instincts hadn’t fooled him, he really had been watched the whole time. Nervously, he looked around as if he expected his new _friend_ lurking in one of the corners. It took him all his willpower to not check under his bed.

“Well, I kept my end of the deal. And you-”

“Your file will be clean before the week is over and you can live your happy good-guy life, just like you promised your daddy.”

Leo cringed at the mocking tone but he bit down a sharp response.

“Okay. Good. As long as you don’t send someone to get me out of the way.” Fuck, his laughter sounded pathetic even in his own ears.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Manfred. Why would you snitch if there’s nothing to win? It’d take a lover of the truth to risk being kicked back into the streets and frankly, I don’t take you as the honorable kind.”

“Fuck you,” Leo hissed but the voiced laughed. It was the first time Leo heard him laughing and it send a chill down his spine.

“Not my type but I’ll let you know if there’s something else you can do for me. Good night, Mr. Manfred.”

“But-!” Disconnected. “FUCK!” He hurled the phone against the wall, the impact shattering it to pieces. Leo threw himself across the bed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He should have known, he had dealt with men of this kind too often to not have known. Everything had been well lately. If he only hadn’t agreed to drive after drinking the other night, if he only hadn’t joked with his buddy on the phone and crashed right into that police car! One fucking mistake!

*

 _I made a mistake!_ The empty vial was lying in his palm. Connor was sitting on the floor. At first, he felt nothing and for a moment, he hoped it would remain like that. A ran a quick analysis of the substance. It was similar to the one they had found at the Alcott crime scene but not 100% identical. This could have been important but instead of doing the right thing, he had just destroyed this new piece of evidence, for nothing. He had to tell Hank and hope he wouldn’t kick Connor out.

 _Please, don_ _’t yell at me._ He was tired of being yelled at and insulted and that he’d deserve it this time wasn’t comforting. But he had made his decision. Connor closed his hand around the small glass container and stood up. As much as he didn’t approve of having to wake Hank up, delaying the inevitable wasn’t the favorable option.

 _But what would it change?_ He paused after two steps. That was an appropriate question. What would it change if he talked to Hank now? He’d get angry in the morning just the same but at least he would have slept, which was beneficial to his health. If he told Connor to leave the house, it would be better to go outside during the day when the temperatures were expected to be more agreeable than in the middle of the night.

It would be stupid to tell him now. Connor was about to put the vial into the pocket of his pants but then he walked into the kitchen. He opened the trash can, dropped the vial into it and closed. After all, what was done was done. And it wasn’t like he didn’t know where to get more in three days.

So, why tell him at all? He giggled. This was the perfect plan. No troubles tonight, no yelling, nobody had to freeze outside and Hank’s head could heal without any additional worries.

Connor walked back to the living room and squeezed himself next to Sumo.

“Don’t worry, Sumo. Everything is fine.” Wait. He was supposed to do something right now. He couldn’t remember. Well, if he had overwritten the instruction, whatever it might have been, it obviously wasn’t of importance. Sumo sat up, giving him a questioning look.

“You know what, Sumo? I think you’re important! You and Hank are! Isn’t that great?” Connor giggled again and wrapped his arms around the dog’s large neck, his face disappearing in his fur. So nice and warm and non-threatening. It would be nice if feeling was the same experience for him as for humans and not just data about temperature, textures, and composition but he took what he could get. Despite the limited impact, cuddling this dog was an excellent way to spend some time. And the lack of flashing warning signs proved him right.

*

Pushing his messy hair out of his face, Hank shuffled out of his bedroom. Who gave a fuck about the time? It was still winter outside, gray, cold, and self-important and it might as well have been six in the morning or in the afternoon. He was on his way to the bathroom when an unfamiliar sound pulled him out of his still sleep-heavy daze. Closing his old, striped bathrobe with its belt, he headed to the kitchen, gaping at the scene presented to him.

For some reason, there was a bucket full of water in his kitchen, or rather, had been as someone - which of those two dogs he couldn’t tell - had knocked it over. The whole floor was wet. Sumo, being his usual unperturbed, was contently licking off the water. A fucking bright-eyed, smiley Connor was hanging around Sumo’s neck and giggling, all while kneeling in a puddle.

“What the fuck is going on here? Connor?!” At least Hank now knew the time. Too-fucking-early-for-this-shit o’clock.

“Oh, sorry, Hank. We didn’t mean to wake you up.” After another short, tight hug, Connor stood up. The legs of his pants were soaked and the hoodie looked like it also received a generous number of splashes. Fuck, in any other circumstances, this would have been the most endearing, cutest shit he had seen in a while but this was fucking Connor, Mr. Stick-Up-The-Ass sent by CyberLife who had been a shivering, tired mess just a few hours ago.

Before Hank had a chance to answer, Connor shortened the distance between them and then fell around Hank’s neck.

“Sorry for the chaos. I just finished cleaning the windows but stumbled over the bucket when Sumo came into the kitchen. I’ll clean up and make you breakfast. Or do you want breakfast first.”

Holy fuck. It wasn’t just Connor’s wet clothes that sent a shiver down his spine. Connor was pressing against him and if Hank hadn’t known better, he’d have mistaken him for a human anytime. Hank had no fucking clue how the whole skin-thing worked but it was definitely convincing. Connor’s face was warm and soft against his, like that of any young man who either shaved religiously or didn’t have much facial hair to worry about to begin with.

The man in him yelled something about to forget about breakfast and to start with the dessert while it was hot and wearing wet clothes he better got rid of. But he forced the lieutenant to take over.

He reached for Connor’s arms, peeled them off his neck, and shoved him away.

“Bathroom. I’ll shower and get dressed. You do, uh, whatever you have to do. Just don’t flood the rest of the house!”

“Hank!”

But Hank had escaped into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. “Holy shit.” If drinks weren’t an option, busying himself always helped him think. He went to the sink and opened the faucet. Splashing cold water on his face proved he was indeed awake. Good, he could rule out a fucking weird dream as an explanation.

When even the water and brushing his teeth didn’t make the warm feeling from Connor’s hug go away, he, unfortunately, had to admit two other of his suspicions were true: He was fucking attracted to this boy. Which wasn’t a total surprise. Slender, smart, young and a bit cheeky in his own way. Cute face and all. Connor was his type but he was also an android who was new to the whole emotion bullshit, goddammit. But worse than that, something had gone wrong with Connor’s circuits and he thought he was attracted to Hank! Well, the way Connor had reacted when Hank got injured had been tale-tell enough but nobody could blame an old, tired man for denying a hunch bigger than Notre-Dame as long as possible.

This left him with three things to do. First, to get into the shower and wash any _You know, why the hell not? He_ _’s cute, he likes you, go for it!_ -thoughts off of him. He was too old for symbolic cold showers and switched to a more pleasant temperature.

He grabbed the shower gel and lathered himself up, poking his soft belly. Damn, he had gotten really out of shape. Sure, a little chub and gray hair hadn’t stood in his way to get laid during the last few years but he had liked his firm, muscular self better. Maybe it wasn’t too late to get back to that. With some motivation, healthier food, and a little discipline it shouldn’t take that long. Two, three years, more likely a decade…

Hank stepped out of the shower once he had washed the soap off and grabbed a towel, grimacing at his reflection when he came closer to the mirror. Damn, he had gotten old. Not just in the as-time-passes sense. He had fucking aged a decade in the last three years. Well, his last hook-up had told him she was charmed by his wrinkles, called them a map of a life of sorrows and woes and other poetical bullshit. And those scars? Fuck, he knew himself the alluring effect of a nice scar and knife scars combined with one from a bullet? He could probably seduce more pretty faces by just keeping his miserable mouth shut and lifting his shirt.

Who was he kidding? He growled at the face in the mirror. He was into younger guys and there were enough younger guys and the occasional lady who liked to get pushed into the sheets by an older bear with a natural air of authority. Good times for everyone. His attitude was the problem and years and years of experiences. He wasn’t the right kind of man for someone like Connor. A hook-up here and there to dampen his hatred on the world and to remind himself that even an old grump like him could have a good time for a few hours, that was his deal. He was neither relationship material and certainly not let-me-introduce-you-to-the-delicacies-of-carnal-desires material. How cute Connor’s ass looked in those tight pants didn’t change anything about that.

Nevertheless, it was a fucking cute ass, not flat, not a bubble butt, impossible to tell if it was soft or firm, a mystery only curious hands could solve.

“Ugh.” Hank violently rubbed his hair dry, ignoring the pain from the scar. Fuck, wasn’t he supposed to keep it dry for a few days? Eh, fuck that, he had other problems. The unpleasant burning of the sore skin should have been what he needed to solve one of them but alas, there were parts of his body that hadn’t gotten the memo that he wasn’t twenty anymore. He would never complain that his damn dick still had a healthy appetite, but he preferred it to get its mind out of the gutter when Hank didn’t have time for that kind of entertainment.

Which brought up another question. Did Connor… Fed up with his life or not, Hank would have been dead already if he hadn’t noticed how well-endowed, or rather well-equipped the male androids working at the Eden Club were. But how about, uh, regular androids? Whatever regular meant. Wasn’t there an add recently in one of his magazines, selling a new household assistant which- who was capable of doing other things besides jerking laundry around and keeping warm meals ready? What about investigator-slash-CyberLife spy-slash-deviant hunter prototypes?

Fuck, mental images of naked Connor in half a dozen possible below-waistline variation were the last thing he needed if he ever wanted to get out of this damn bathroom.

He was tempted to go back into the shower and have a little fun with himself but refused to let his last shreds of dignity go to act like a hormonal high schooler. He tossed the towel to the floor, immediately feeling guilty. He was not a high schooler and he was not a teenager living with his mom, and even she used to give him a good lecture whenever he desecrated her neatly scrubbed floors with carelessly dropped clothes.

“Wait a minute!” Suddenly, it was as if he had just walked into the bathroom. The floor was scrubbed! He peeked into the shower. No hair, except those few he had just lost, no stains, no mold between the tiles. The mirror - fogged from his hot shower but spotless. The walls clean and what was supposed to be white was actually- white! And didn’t Connor said something about windows?

 _Okay, Highschool Hank, get the fuck out of the way, time for the lieutenant to step up and do his fucking job!_ This, finally, did the trick to calm himself down. He slipped into his bathrobe and hurried into his room to grab some clean clothes. At least his bedroom was as messy as it had been when he went to bed last night.

 

He emerged from his cave only a few moments later, fully dressed in one of his favorite striped shirts.

“Okay, Connor.” He walked into the kitchen, ready to start the interrogation, but for the second time today, he was presented a different scene from what he had expected.

Sumo had enough from playing in the water and had retreated to his favorite spot on the couch, large, wet paw prints on the floor giving him away even if he weren’t of the mass of a small mountain. The bucket was still upset and several dishtowels were scattered on the floor, having absorbed maybe half of the spilled water.

“Connor? Fuck, are you all right?”

Connor was sitting at the table, bent over, his head on his arms, hiding his face. He didn’t move when called and Hank felt how his stomach turned into a knot. He hastened around the table, almost slipping on the wet floor, and put a hand on Connor’s back, shaking him gently.

“Oh god.” What if the cold from his nightly walk had damaged him? Or the water? Fuck, were androids waterproof? Wait, yes, Connor had been standing in the rain before, with that damn lost poodle look on his face. _Calm the fuck down, Hank! Act like a grown-up man, for fuck_ _’s sake!_ Taking a deep breath, he pulled Connor’s upper body into an upright position. Connor’s face was still, not a muscle twitching, his eyes half-closed. Almost like he was lost in thought or daydreaming. Only that nothing Hank said or did bring him back to reality. Hank shuddered from the creepy sight but also from relief when he noticed Connor’s LED. It was red, blinking in a steady, slow rhythm.

“Connor? Oh, thank god! You’re not dead!” It was time to approach the situation from a rational angle. This idiot had been tuckered out last night. That nurse had warned him that he needed to recharge or he would be forced to shut down, no, to go into standby. Not great but not dead either. Connor himself had admitted he had been on his last legs. Hell knew what had gotten into him when he decided to do the work a professional cleaning service would need most of the week for but that could explain why he acted so strangely before.

This stubborn fool hadn’t slept one minute and instead thrown the worst one-man-party in history, driving himself past his limits until he collapsed. Well, this kind of behavior wasn’t unknown to Hank but he preferred whiskey over cleaning agents.

“Let’s get you to bed, you damn idiot.” He pulled the chair from the table, shoved his arms under Connor’s knees and arms before he fell off the chair, and lifted him up. If Connor was awake he’d probably tell him it wasn’t necessary for androids to sleep in a bed but there was no way Hank would let him sit like a lifeless doll in his kitchen until he finished his nap.

Connor was light, as Hank would have expected it from any young man of his size and shape. He looked young and vulnerable like this and Hank realized he had been wrong before when he thought Connor’s face was still too much emotionless android. Now that it was still, he knew he had taken all the small motions, smiles, scowls for granted.

That brought him back to the original issue and finding Connor like this confirmed his hunch. Connor acting like he did, giggling, being openly affectionate, whirling around the house like some out-of-mind cleaner all night, that wasn’t him. Something was up and it had to do with the fact that Mr. I’d-found-it-regrettable-if-I-was-interrupted refused to take a fucking rest despite needing it so much.

Hank carried him into his bedroom and laid him down on his own bed. Standing there and looking down at him, he was unsure what to do next. He kept the heat of this room low and remembering that cold wasn’t good for androids, he should crank it up. Should he tug him in also? What about his clothes? Connor was still wearing the wet pants and hoodie.

Hank had handled his fair share of drunk friends of all genders in his life and undressing them was a boundary he only overstepped in cases of too much vomit, pointy accessories, or, in one case, that failed experiment involving too much kerosene.

On which level was an android who rolled around on a wet floor before taking a forced nap?

“Jesus fucking Christ.” At this point, thinking too much about whether getting a guy out of wet clothes was creepy or not made it creepier than it should be. ““Sorry, Connor, but if you freeze your legs off I cannot afford you a new pair.” He propped up Connor’s upper body, quickly removed the hoodie, and let him sink back onto the bed. He did equally quick work with the pants, tossed them to the floor, and pulled the duvet over him up to his chin.

“Night. And don’t you fucking dare waking up before your damn battery is full.” Once he was back in the corridor and closed the bedroom door behind him, he had a chuckle at himself. Fuck, his past self from just two months ago would punch his face if somebody told him soon, he’d have an almost naked android sleeping in his bed. A kick to his balls would follow for having learned certain facts about said android’s anatomy. In a non-nasty way, Hank assured himself, some things were simply impossible to miss when a guy needs to have his skinny jeans peeled off.

 _Not important, you old fuck. For all you know, it might just be a design choice. Not that it matters!_ “Fuck this shit!” He needed to go out, get drunk, and hook up. But first, coffee. Then work. Sumo trotted past him and stopped in front of Hank’s bedroom. Whining, he scratched at the door.

“Holy fuck, why don’t you two get married already. Sumo! Walk!” This at least stopped the whining and scratching but the dog only looked at Hank without moving. Hank had to get into his boots and grab the leash until Sumo finally and reluctantly followed him to the front door. Great, now he couldn’t even have a nice, hot cup of coffee because he had to get some fresh air into his dog head before he turned his door into sawdust.

*

“NO!” Connor shouted. An electric jolt shot through his body and he woke up. “Leave me alone! I don’t want to die!” He covered his face with his hands as if this would help him to shake of the helplessness and fear. He had been _somewhere_ , running away from one death into the arms of another, unable to stop in-between. But the last image he remembered were gray walls, and he had been cold and afraid. Everything else he had seen had already slipped away from the grasp of his mind.

The trembling subsided and he dared to uncover his eyes. It was almost dark but he didn’t feel threatened. He sat up. The cover slid from his shoulders and he felt colder.

“What? Why?” Slowly, parts of reality began to click into one coherent picture. This was Hank’s bedroom and he was in Hank’s bed, only wearing his underwear. “Hank?” But he was alone. What a peculiar situation. He furrowed his brows as he tried to make sense of it. The oldest memory he could find was his walk with Sumo. Hank had been there when he returned. Later, there was water. An image of the bathroom. Then there was Hank again, pushing him away after- what?

“What did I do?” Connor ran a quick system check, his unease increasing. There was a report of memory loss, question marks where time stamps should have been. And his energy had been restored to 21%. He shuddered, rubbing his arms, faint red flashes of his LED glowing in the dim room. He didn’t remember going to sleep mode, whatever he had done had finally forced him into emergency standby. And as soon as he had recharged a bit, the darkness had returned and chased after him.

 _Is this going to be my existence now?_ His fingernails broke through the artificial skin. _Never fully recharged and functional because whatever it is will chase me to death when I_ _’m not awake?_

Hank! He had to find Hank! The thought broke the spell. Connor let go of his arms, barely noticing the blue thirium on his fingertips. There was something he had to tell him immediately! He threw the duvet aside and jumped out of the bed. The fear still lingered inside of him, a steadily dull throbbing in the back of his mind but he had no time for it.

A sudden chill claiming his body slowed down his eagerness. He couldn’t face Hank like that. While Hank treated him kindly lately, Connor hadn’t forgotten his opinion on Connor’s appearance. Imposing on him without covering up wouldn’t improve their relationship.

The thought wasn’t pleasant. The conversation he simulated in his head left him with the same impression he had when Hank rejected any of his attempts to start a friendly conversation and repeatedly told him to shut up.

He ran another check while searching the floor for any clothes he could wear. Those older memories were untrue if applied to the current status of their friendly relationship and shouldn’t be marked as relevant anymore.

He only found Hank’s clothes. He took a shirt with a colorful blue and orange pattern from the closet and put it on. He gave up quickly on Hank’s pants, they were too long and too wide to walk comfortably in them. As the shirt covered him well past his hips, he decided this should do until he found his own clothes in the living room. Walking out of the bedroom, he was tackled down by Sumo.

“Hey there, my friend. Have you been waiting for me?” It was strange how attached this dog had become to him, a non-human being, but he appreciated the blunt affection. A thoroughly scratching under the collar finally convinced Sumo to step off of Connor and allow him to get up.

“Hank? I’m sorry I occupied your bed. I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you too much.” But there was no Hank, not in the living room, not in the kitchen. He had walked past the open bathroom door, Hank wasn’t in there either. This was most puzzling. Connor still remembered the instructions from the hospital. Hank was supposed to rest and as Connor had blocked the bed, he had assumed to find him on the couch.

Connor followed the smell of cold coffee into the kitchen. An empty mug stood on the table, a piece of paper leaning against it. He picked it up.

 _You better are fully recharged after the scare you_ _’ve given me! I’m at work, join whenever you’re ready. Clothes are on the chair, money for a cab in the jacket. If somebody asks, you went to the vet with Sumo for me. Take one of my coats when you leave, lock the door, turn off the lights. And for fuck’s sake, no more cleaning! Hank_

Seeing the messy handwriting made him smile but confusion soon took over. Hank was supposed to stay at home! Oh, no, that meant he went in Connor’s place, making an excuse for him, and that meant he ignored his own health and safety and lied to protect Connor’s position. This should irritate him but instead, it was… _warm._ Connor sighed. He knew about human emotions, how they were provoked and how they showed, but it was difficult to assign the correct terms to what was going on with himself. Differentiating between warm and cold was ridiculously limiting and not even semantically correct. He was only certain about the lowest end of cold. Fear.

Connor hurried to re-read the note. He had no idea what Hank meant with ‘cleaning’ but indeed, the kitchen was in a much more acceptable state than the last time he remembered seeing it. Cabinets, stove, floor, everything was clean. Even the windows had a brilliant shine to them. He glanced into the living room. Dusted shelves, items put in order, couch and armchair freed from dog hair- mostly, but it was safe to assume Sumo had used them for a nap while Connor was asleep.

A third scan didn’t bring any new results. The note and logic implied he was responsible for the clean house whether he remembered it or not. The blanks in his memory were disconcerting but at least it was obvious why his systems forcefully went into standby. He had worked himself past the point of exhaustion for some reason and there was a good chance this was responsible for the partial memory loss. He wasn’t fully convinced by this theory but in lack of another explanation, he accepted it for now and decided to go on with his day.

Connor returned to the kitchen after a short, hot shower and inspected the pile of clothes that waited for him.

He recognized his own pants and shirt. A wise choice, he couldn’t go to work in an old hoodie and pants yet he’d have liked to wear them again. He put on a pair of clean socks that were slightly too tight but would stretch out as he wore them. He hadn’t seen the jacket before. It was a blazer of a simple cut like his old one but of a darker gray. Most importantly, it lacked any symbols or logos of CyberLife. Just a simple, semi-formal blazer, not new but rarely worn. Connor slipped into it and fidgeted with the end of his sleeves. It fitted perfectly.

The measurements of its chest, arms, and general length suggested it had never been Hank’s, even in his most athletic days. As it wasn’t new, Hank hadn’t bought it while Connor wasn’t available.

 _Another piece belonging to his ex, like the pants he lent me yesterday. Hank is the nostalgic type. Of course he wouldn_ _’t only keep mementos of his son but also of a lover._ A new kind of warmth overcame him and nothing about it was pleasant. It had nothing to do with Hank’s arm around him or seeing him smile. This was closer to what he felt when he saw Detective Reed but not quite the same.

Well, now he was wearing it and it suited him well. He took a look at himself in the switched-off TV, straightening the seam. He was just another man ready to go to work, clean, well-dressed, and not marked as CyberLife’s possession.

Cold crept around his throat as he thought of his former jacket. He tore himself away from his reflection and quickly put on his shoes. He pulled the coat he had borrowed last night off its hook and called a taxi. At least that part of his communication systems hadn’t been cut off. Yet. Maybe he should call Hank as well, informing him that he was on his way and that he needed to talk to him but knowing him, he most likely wouldn’t appreciate being contacted in a for him unconventional way unless it was an emergency.

And while important, this wasn’t an emergency.

“Have a nice day, Sumo.” The dog had followed him to the door and Connor patted his head. “I’m aware it’s unnecessary to remind you to be a good dog. I look forward to seeing you again tonight.” He hurried out and closed the door before the dog followed him. He found the keys and a few bills in one of his pockets and locked the door. Pulling the coat’s sleeves over his hands, he waited for the taxi, impatiently shifting from one foot to the other. The sooner he met Hank and got him to talk to him alone the better, Hank needed to know-

Connor froze on the spot.

He didn’t remember what he wanted to tell Hank.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Good: Not everyone is an asshole.  
> The Bad: People died.  
> The Ugly: Reed is an asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 and 9 are actually one chapter and I thought it'd look nice if split. 
> 
> There's lots of Gavin Reed in this chapter and he's a jerk. I know, I know, it's not what's popular these days but I can't help it, I enjoy him being an asshole. At least he's not the only asshole but be warned, the headcanons used here don't match many of the fandom's headcanons. 
> 
> I hope you have fun with this anyway and I sure won't stop you guys from shipping whatever you want :D

Connor adjusted his tie one last time before he walked into the office area. The taxi ride hadn’t helped him to recover the lost memories and the harder he searched, the more he knew it was important. Whatever had happened last night, it was highly concerning and, worse, he had no other options left to resolve the situation. It was about time he stopped letting emotions guide his actions and followed the rational part.

He entered the office area of the precinct. Most desks were occupied by uniformed officers working or having a chat together. Connor was relieved when he spotted Hank sitting alone at his desk, drinking from a mug that hopefully only contained coffee.

“Hank?” Connor lowered his voice as he approached him. “I have to- ask. Are you well?” Hank’s hair fell back when he raised his head, revealing the reddened end of his scar. Connor frowned. That wasn’t what he had intended to say, yet, he spoke without thinking, partly relaxing, partly more stressed out at avoiding the pressing issue.

“You’re in no fucking position to ask _me!_ ” Hank stood up and moved around the desk. Grabbing Connor by his arm, he pulled him towards his working area. “Goddammit, Connor, you’ve given me a good scare. First acting weird, then suddenly unconscious. Fuck, I thought you were dead!” Hank was hissing through his teeth but while his lowered voice wouldn’t reach curious ears around them, it was aggravated enough to cut through the remains of Connor’s obstinacy.

“I’m sorry I worried you. I assure you I’m fine. Given the circumstances.” That last bit, vague as it was, was difficult to admit but the tension of Connor’s shoulders eased slightly. “I went into emergency standby,” he continued with firmer resolution, “I behaved irrationally until my energy reserves were depleted. That was careless and must not happen again. I haven’t fully recharged but unless I get myself into an emotionally and physically draining situation like yesterday, I should remain fully functional for the next thirty-four hours.” Connor slightly tilted his head backward, inhaling sharply and holding his breath for a second or two before he released it.

“Figured something like that.” Hank slumped back into his chair and gestured Connor to sit down on his desk. One of his social protocols warned him it would be more appropriate to use the chair at his own desk but he ignored it. Hank watched him as he shoved electronic memo pads, traditional paper, and pens aside before sitting down. “Emotionally draining, eh? So, the whole being alive and awake deal takes a toll on your batteries?”

“So it appears, yes. Deviancy hasn’t been researched outside its possible causes and its effects on the human society. Consequently, there aren’t any sources of information available to me to confirm my observations. I saw this, however, happen to other androids during my stay with Jericho.” Connor was kneading his fingers in his lap and avoided looking at Hank. This was all true and needed to be said but he was still dodging the important part.

“Makes sense, I guess.” Hank crossed his arms and nodded. “Strong emotions tire humans out all the time. Doesn’t even matter if we’re happy or feel like shit. Stuff like that needs energy just like physical work. And why should it be different for you guys just because you run on different fuel than us? Still surprised it hit you so hard, though.”

Connor’s mouth twitched into a bitter smile. “Yes, me, too.” Then he untangled his hands, running them up and down his upper legs, and straightened his shoulders. “Hank, I need to talk. It’s important.” He still couldn’t look at him.

“Yeah.” Hank gave a curt chuckle. “You fucking do. Glad you got to that conclusion yourself. I already feared I had to beat it out of you later or something.”

Connor faced him for the first time, letting a silent moment pass before he dared to put his vague feelings into words.

“You planned to use violence against me?”

“Holy shit, no!” Hank groaned, pushing his hair out of his face, flinching when he accidentally touched the wound. “Jesus, Connor, that was just a figure of speech. Not my best one or whatever but I know you aren’t immune to humor. I thought you’d recognize a dumb joke when you hear one!”

Connor kept his face straight despite his energy level dropping by 2% at this exchange. It was a joke in itself how he was getting tired from falling into yet another human-humor-trap. He understood jokes and irony and understood why they were funny. If they were related to his field of expertise and obvious. His mind replayed a memory of the 6th of November. He recognized his internal reaction to Hank grabbing him by the collar and expressing his disgust over Connor’s existence as unease. An emotional response he hadn’t been supposed to have but that wasn’t the worst. Despite the event being of the past and the changes between him and Hank, the full impact hit him as if it happened just a moment ago.

“Well, Lieutenant Anderson.” It wasn’t as much anger that kept his voice low and neutral. It was the sadness that the man he was looking at had once hated him so much. That, and fear - which seemed to linger ever present somewhere in his being lately - reared its head. It was different from his fear of death but as unpleasant. “I hope you understand that it’s sometimes difficult to tell if you’re joking. Especially if you threaten me. After all, it wouldn’t be the first-”

“Well, look who we have here.” Detective Reed suddenly appeared behind Connor, slapping the back of Connor’s head. “Looks like Anderson’s mutt spit out his plastic toy in our office.”

“Fuck off, Reed!” Hank was on his feet and by Connor’s side before Connor could react, posing himself between Gavin Reed and Connor’s back. “And get it in your head that he’s a co-worker and you better treat him as such!”

Connor slid off the table and turned around but stayed behind Hank. He bit his tongue and clenched his fists when he saw Reed’s smirk.

“Cute. Oh, maybe it’s not your dog’s toy after all but yours.” Reed leaned in closer to Hank but his voice remained loud enough to make those working around them turn their heads. “Hope it has a geriatric setting. Wouldn’t want you to die of a heart attack. Hey, does it vibrate? Or glow in the dark?” Reed threw back his head and laughed at his own joke. Embarrassed chuckles came from one or two desks close to them.

And this time, Connor got enough of the _joke_ to understand it was meant to degrade him and humiliate Hank.

“You-!” he started but Hank’s arm pushed him back.

“Take that as your lesson of today, Connor.” Hank shoved him back behind his desk, out of Reed’s reach. “Punching motherfuckers like him isn’t worth the bruises on your knuckles. Besides,” Hank returned to his chair with a grin on his face, “it’s bad style to hit rookies of lower ranks. Where’s the fun in that? I’ll explain it to you later,” Hank added when Connor was about to open his mouth.

“Oh yeah?” Reed had stopped laughing and glowered at Hank. “Rich, coming from a Lieutenant who thinks the best clues are hidden at the bottom of a whiskey bottle. If anybody would listen to me for once, your desk would have been moved into the drunk tank years ago!”

“And even drunk and locked away I’d still be the better cop.” Hank shrugged, a smug grin on his face. Connor didn’t recall having seen him this much at ease and content with himself since they had met. Reed’s face, on the other hand, had changed to an alarming red color and his eyes narrowed to slits. Connor tried to preconstruct the outcome of the situation if he remained silent but it was too unpredictable. Reed showed all signs of getting closer to a violent outburst. Hank was calm which Connor read as him being able to handle himself if necessary. However, he wasn’t sure if Hank remembered he was still physically affected by the attack he suffered yesterday. Reason dictated it was time for Connor to step in and de-escalate. Yet, observing the exchange had already provided him with valuable information about Detective Reed, the same Hank was aware of, the way he provoked Reed.

Connor wanted to see more of that. He could intervene as soon as Reed decided to add violence to the conversation.

“Glad you kids are having fun. On the job!” Captain Fowler’s voice thundered from his office door and with few surprisingly swift steps, he had joined them, smacking Reed’s head with a tablet. “Got a homicide. Elderly couple, throats slid less than two hours ago. Miller!” Fowler barked and the young man who had watched them from his desk the whole time jumped. “You and Reed, your case.” Fowler slammed the tablet against Reed’s chest.

“Finally, some real work to do.” Reed grabbed the tablet before it fell to the floor and snatched his jacket from his chair. “Sorry, Anderson, but some of us still try to protect the _humans_ of this damn city. Let’s go, Chris.”

“Not so fast!” Fowler called them back before they could hurry out of the office space. “Connor’s going with you.”

Despite the unchanged temperature readings, Connor felt cold. He wasn’t afraid of Gavin Reed but the way Reed had treated him since the beginning still stung and the chances of another opportunity to beat him up were low.

“Well, let’s get moving then.” Hank nodded at Connor but Fowler raised his hands.

“Forget it, Hank. Desk work. At least one week.”

“You can’t be fucking serious, Fowler, and really want to pair Connor up with Reed! I’m going with them!”

Connor smiled faintly, caught between not wanting to be under Reed’s command and his worries about Hank’s health.

“No,” Reed joined the debate, “for once I agree with Lieutenant Boozer. Captain, I’m good at my job but Chris and I gonna have more important things to do than babysitting a piece of plastic!”

Captain Fowler sighed and rolled his eyes, throwing his hands towards the ceiling. “What is it with you idiots lately that you can’t take orders? Listen, either you do as I say or I’ll fire the whole lot of you. Hank, you stay here. Reed, you take Intern Connor with you and fucking treat him like any other human. Human-like… with decency, like any co-worker!” He grunted when he finally found an appropriate way to express his demand.

“But-” Reed tried again and Connor wanted to join him in his protest.

“The sooner you stop bitching you might actually read the damn file and see that the couple’s android reported the homicide. Now get your butt and our expert on androids out of here!”

*

Connor watched the snow in silence during the whole car ride. He was displeased at Reed’s dismissive tone when he ordered him to sit in the back and keep his mouth shut but he hadn’t seen any ground to argue. In fact, Connor preferred the back seat over sitting next to him. Reed had decided the best strategy was to pretend Connor existed and in return, Connor ignored his conversation about sports with Miller. Which was rather a monologue to which Miller added an occasional grunt of agreement.

The allegedly murdered couple owned a small apartment in a complex at the fringe of their precinct. Lower middle class, facilities for every-day needs like stores and doctors easy to reach by foot, car, or bus. Connor was still blocked from all personal databases but he still had access to public information about the city. This area was popular with senior citizens who lived with their spouse or alone and either couldn’t afford a house or were too old and fragile to talk care of one. Realtors marketed it as the perfect place to enjoy life after all those hard-working years, simple, elegant, comfortable.

“It’s here, Detective. The building over there.” Miller pointed at a gray eight-floor complex which didn’t look any different from the others seaming the street. “Sixth floor, apartment twenty-one.”

“I’m not blind, Chris.” Reed took a sharp right turn and parked in an open lot too small for the car but he solved it by steering the front half on the sidewalk. “Great, looks like we’re the first to get here. Forensics and cleaners are on their way, I hope.” Reed and Miller climbed out of the car. Connor followed them, mindful to stay a few steps behind and out of Reed’s sight. But that only worked until they had to squeeze into the narrow elevator.

Reed glared at him but only spoke to Miller. “What do we know about them again?”

Connor held back the answer. Miller had read the details to them after they got into the car but it wasn’t reasonable to start a fight with Reed in an elevator built in 1998, last maintenance 2029.

“Miranda Barkley, seventy-four, and Jordan Barkley, seventy-two. Married since 2016,” Miller repeated the information without having a look at the datapad.

“And croaked together in their bed, holding hands.” Reed laughed, shaking his head. “Romance is dead. Literally.”

Connor kept staring back at him while Miller gave a forced chuckle, uncomfortably shifting his feet. Connor acknowledged Chris Miller’s decisions to avoid any provocation and was pleased to see his body language rejecting Reed’s sense of humor. If Hank had joined them he’d certainly have had a sharp retort ready for Reed’s lack of decorum. After all, Hank had even shown empathy towards deviants and their fears and motivations even when Connor himself still saw his kind as nothing but broken objects.

“Oh!”

“What was that?” Reed stood suddenly in front of him, close enough for Connor to feel his breath and calculate the number of cigarettes Reed had smoked this morning. “Does our _equipment_ has an opinion?”

“Yes. But I assume you’re not interested in what I have to say.” In fact, Connor had just realized something. Hank wasn’t in his best shape, physically and mentally, but when he and Connor investigated crime scenes together, Hank had been all there. Smart, observant, willing to push his prejudices towards Connor as an android aside and open to reconsidering his assumptions if the evidence or Connor’s reasoning offered a different angle. And he asked about the why behind the crime, not only the who and how. That’s why Connor had been able to find the android who killed Ortiz and was allowed to question him. Or why they figured out the incident in the Eden Club wasn’t just about a perverted human client and an android fighting and both died in the process.

Hank was a better cop than Reed even at his worst and he was aware of it. Deducting from Reed’s reaction at the station, he was aware of it as well. This was an interesting revelation and partly explained Reed’s animosity towards Hank and Connor as individuals and as a team.

“Fucking right you are! Because you don’t have anything to say. I don’t give a fuck about your little revolution.” Reed poked him in the chest, hissing through his teeth. “You’ll always be inferior to us. You androids, and you in particular, you ugly piece of trash.”

“My social protocols advise me to never reason against a human’s belief system, so, whatever you say, Detective, as long as it brings you peace and happiness.” Interesting or not, Connor didn’t like him and couldn’t bring himself to choose calm understanding and support as an alternative to deal with Reed as he had done with Hank. Hank’s anger had been different, created by outside circumstances, hurt, and resignation. He had been worth a chance, just like he had given Connor one.

Connor’s analysis failed to find any other sources for Reed’s hate and anger towards him than what he seemed to perceive as an unfair unbalance between his and Hank’s achievements.

“And now the plastic joke thinks it’s funny.” A vein was pulsating on Reed’s forehead and red patches glowed on his throats and cheeks. He grabbed Connor by his shirt and slammed him against the elevator wall. “How would you like it if I throw you into the elevator shaft?”

“It would be interesting to observe how you intend to execute your plan logistically, Detective.” Connor looked down at him, his hands opening and closing. He remained calm and neutral in his voice but red warnings were flashing in his mind. Silence or apologetic answers had an equal chance of de-escalating the situation. Reed was smaller than him but slightly superior in physical strength. Connor could easily win a fight between them if he had space to move and attack Reed’s joints and throw him off-balance but within the confines of the elevator, he wouldn’t survive without being damaged.

“Detective.” Officer Miller put a hand on Reed’s arm and pushed it down. “Is this really worth the paperwork and a reprimand? Solving this case without incident could be an important step towards your promotion.” Miller spoke hastily and held his breath as soon as he finished. His smile was friendly but it didn’t reach his worried eyes.

“Hrng!” Reed slammed Connor against the wall a second time. Then, with a grunt, he let go of him, his expression still tensed but he had his anger under control.

“Thank y-” Connor’s head hit the wall when Reed slapped him hard enough for his system to run a quick check for any damages of his facial structures.

“Not one word. Not. One.” Reed put his finger across Connor’s lips who felt a sudden urge to bite it off. The elevator announcing their arrival at the sixth floor saved him from another bad choice.

“I’ll check on the cold lovebirds.” Reed moved away from Connor as if he never existed and walked through the opening doors. “Miller, you-”

“I’ll talk with the android. To, uh, make sure everything’s done by the book and nobody messes up.” Miller shot a quick glance at Connor that begged him to be quiet as they followed Reed.

“Whatever.” Reed shrugged and hammered against the door of apartment twenty-one. Connor recognized the android who opened as an AX400 with long red hair tied up in a ponytail. Her face was wet and she looked like she’d break into fresh tears any moment. Before she could say anything, Reed shoved her aside and walked inside.

“Sorry, Ma’am. Officer Miller and Mr. Connor, our specialist in android affairs.” Chris Miller held up his badge and gave Connor an encouraging smile. “You already met Detective Reed. We’re here to investigate the incident you reported. It was you, right?”

“What’s your name?” Connor mimicked Miller’s friendly smile when she nervously looked over her shoulder.

“Oh, sorry. Stephanie Barkley.” She held out her hand and Officer Miller and Connor shook it. “I’m taking care of my parents, I mean, was taking… I’ve been their caretaker but we agreed I’d also fill the role of a daughter four years ago. But please, come in.”

She ushered them into the living room and gestured them to sit down on a couch that looked like it had been around to witnessed the end of the last millennium.

“I’ll get you a cup of coffee. I’m back in a minute!” She twisted the seam of her blood-stained shirt between her fingers.

“Thank you, but we’d rather-” Connor began but Miller interrupted.

“That’d be lovely, Miss Barkley. No milk, but if you could spare one spoon of sugar?”

“Yes, of course!” She visibly relaxed and even let go of her shirt as she hurried to the kitchen.

“She’s shaken to the core. Let her do something for a minute. That’ll help her to collect herself,” Miller whispered to Connor. “And what about you? Are you okay? Gavin hit you pretty hard.”

“I’m fine. He didn’t cause any damage and I don’t feel pain as such.” Connor had no reason do doubt Miller’s concern but even if he’d suspect him to be on Reed’s side he didn’t care. For the moment, it was nice to hear a friendly voice.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.” Miller sighed and pulled a tablet from his jacket to record Stephanie Barkley’s testimony once she returned. “I know I’m a coward. But working with him is, well, you can imagine, and you’ll be back with Lieutenant Anderson soon enough…” He shrugged and sighed again, then his face lit up as he smiled and tugged the sleeve of Connor’s blazer. “It’s looking good on you. I was surprised when Lieutenant Anderson called me this morning and asked if I still had that blazer I wore at Captain Fowler’s wedding. ‘The one that was too small for me anyway,’ as he put it.” He laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “Didn’t think anyone would have noticed. Anyway, his house is close to my wife’s office so, yeah. It’s always nice to help a buddy out.”

Connor listened with growing amazement as Officer Miller revealed the truth behind his jacket. It didn’t belong to Hank’s ex, it was was from a co-worker who just happened to be close to his size. Those weren’t complex information to process rationally but a strange mix of warm emotions rushed through him. Hank contacting Officer Miller on Connor’s behalf, Miller willing to help, this piece of clothes did not belong to an old lover.

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Officer,” was all Connor could think of and this truth had to be enough for now. He’d later talk to Hank. He wanted to do something for Miller in return, maybe Hank had an idea. If it included a strategy to find Miller another partner, the better.

“Keep the titles for those who get off of them. It’s Chris.” He grinned, nodding in the direction of the room Reed had stormed into, supposedly the bedroom with the two victims. “Here she comes!”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Good: Not everyone is an asshole.  
> The Bad: People died.  
> The Ugly: Reed is still an asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, technically chapter 8.2 but ao3 won't let me count like that! 
> 
> Everything I said in the previous chapter still applies.

Stephanie returned from the kitchen, balancing a cup of steaming hot coffee and a small pot filled with sugar cubes on a tablet. Chris had indeed been right. She was a lot calmer, her hands weren’t shaking, and she had found the time to dry her face and readjust her hair. Her stained shirt was covered by an apron.

“Thank you, Miss.” Chris graciously took the cup from her and added two lumps of sugar.

“I apologize for my lack of composure. It’s just, they really were like parents to me.” She let herself drop into the armchair opposite to them and put her hands on her lap, slightly leaning forward. Her smile was genuine but sad, her face attentive. “I figured you would prefer it if I didn’t change clothes but I just had to put something over their…” She took a deep breath, keeping back her tears. “Blood. There was so much… I still can’t believe…” She lowered her gaze to the floor, shaking her head.

“We understand. We’d like to give you all the time you need but we have to ask you some questions.” Chris put the cup on the coffee table and leaned forward, copying her body language as Connor noted. He was beginning to wonder what he was doing here. Stephanie acted fully human and responded well to Chris’ way of talking. But maybe he was already fulfilling his purpose by making sure Reed wouldn’t have this talk with her.

“Of course. I’ll tell you all I know. The sooner you find that bastard the better!” Anger mixed with her grief, a silent promise that it’d be better for the murderer to be found by the police before she could put her hands around his throat. Really, like a human. Connor wondered if she even still felt like an android and if it was just her personality or if this was what he’d become as time went on. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Sharing several characteristics with humans was one thing but were androids really supposed to become a different species?

“Can you tell us how you found them?” Miller gently brought her back to the topic.

“Yes.” Her shoulders dropped and she was back to her grieving, heartbroken self. “I was out to buy groceries, for about two hours. The store isn’t far away but I like to take a detour through the park. When I came back, they weren’t in the living room. I called their names but they didn’t answer. The next thing I remember is staring down on them. All this blood…” She lifted her head and stared past them, unable to stop the tears from running over her face. “I don’t understand. One minute, they tell me to take a nice walk. It’s not good for a young woman like me to keep herself locked away from the world, with two old people as her only company. I swear I was happy, I don’t want it any other way! And the snow was so pretty, the wind so refreshing and the next thing I know, they’re gone. Forever.” She covered her face with her hands, giving in to her sobs.

Connor and Chris exchanged a look. Something was off and they both noticed it.

“Miss,” Connor spoke up for the first time. “Is your memory from the moment of your return from your walk complete?” Probing her memory would have been a shortcut to the answer but doing so without consent and before all other methods were exhausted was among the first things that had become illegal.

“What?” She uncovered her face, gazing at him through her tears. “I-I’m not sure. I think?” She leaned back, tilting her head towards the ceiling. “I unlocked the door. Then I called their name but everything was read. They didn’t answer.”

“Did you put the groceries away before or after you found them?” Connor pressed on, nodding at Chris. Her memory was incomplete which could have many causes, shock being one of them.

“Groceries? Before. I always put them away as soon as I return. It’s always very warm in here and mom loves fresh fish. It’d be unsanitary to keep it out of the fridge too long.”

“I see.” Connor stood up. “Chris, if you don’t mind, I leave the rest of the conversation to you. I’d like to inspect the kitchen.”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” Chris nodded, a sorrowful look on his face. Connor supposed Chris worked with hunches and gut feelings in a similar way as Hank did and if he came to a similar conclusion as Connor did, things weren’t looking good for Stephanie Barkley. But first, he had to see for himself if there really weren’t any fresh products in the fridge as he expected.

He didn’t have to open the fridge to find answers. In the sink, he found a kitchen knife, the blade covered in blood. Connor stepped closer and let a finger ran over the blade. The blood was dry and had almost turned brown. It didn’t require an analysis to know it was older than two, three hours. He licked his fingertips to confirm his observation. Indeed, the blood was eighteen hours old and two different blood types proved it was from two different humans. Just to make sure he didn’t leave out any clues, he checked the fridge and found it decently stocked but the vegetables looked a few days old and there was no fresh fish.

He sighed as he closed it. His first case with an android and everything hinted at her being the murderer. Either she was excellent enough at lying to fool him or something happened, the same something that affected her memory. Neither option was satisfying. He returned his attention to the knife, running different approaches through his head to pick the best one when things went from bad to worse.

“Well, I guess we have our killer!” Reed declared with unveiled triumph in his voice. A gun clicked.

“Dammit!” Without thinking, Connor grabbed the knife and shoved it into the inner pocket of his jacket and hurried back into the living room. Reed pointed his gun at Stephanie, an angry grin on his face. Chris had jumped to his feet and looked as if he wanted to jump between the android and his superior but also didn’t want to catch a bullet for a potential murderer. Stephanie stared at Reed with wide eyes and if she were a human, Connor would expect her to faint.

“Detective Reed!” Connor stepped firmly towards Reed. “I must remind you that we’re not acting under martial law! You’re not authorized to execute a witness who poses no threat to your own safety, and certainly based on assumptions.”

“I should shoot you first as you pose a threat to my good mood!”

“For fuck’s sake, Detective, please!” Chris had finally found his voice and took a brave step that put him in front of the barrel of Reed’s gun. “If you shoot him or her it will cost you your job! Things don’t work like that anymore!”

“Yeah, that thing sure didn’t work like that anymore when it decided to kill its owners! Get out of my way, Chris!”

“Detective!” Connor had one chance to prevent a bloodbath and, possibly, his own death. Detective Reed had become unhinged in his hatred towards androids and Connor’s best bet was to appeal to his sense of duty and his idea that he was superior to androids. “If she was a human you would follow the protocol and find a way to extract the truth without physically harming her. But it’s not only the laws that demand that from you. Maybe she did something on an impulse which led to horrible consequences but no lives will be returned if you act the same way!” Connor and Chris held their breaths. The muscles in Reed’s face twitched as the metaphoric gears in his skull worked.

His struggle was almost palpable. Reed hated to be considered on the same level as any android, hated the thought that he couldn’t do his job as he was required to. But he also hated to admit Connor was right and Connor could only hope he didn’t misjudge the situation and that Reed’s pride would decide in their favor.

“Well.” Finally, he lowered his arm and put away his gun. “Wouldn’t want you to tell in me in your report. Snitching on a superior ain’t no fun, isn’t that right, Chris?” He patted Chris’ back and gave him a humorless smile. “And now get that thing out of my way. I want to have a word with forensics if they ever decide to get their butts over here.”

“Sure, Detective. I’m sorry, Miss Barkley.” Chris put his hand on her arm and helped her up, steading her when her knees threatened to give in. “We’d like to question you back at the precinct. To everyone’s safety,” he added and shot a glare at Reed. “Connor, you coming, too?”

“Yes, Officer.” For now, he had managed to reason with Reed but he didn’t trust him enough to stay alone in one room with him. There was more room here than inside of the elevator and he wouldn’t mind sending Reed to the floor but he wouldn’t stoop that low after just talking Reed out of enacting mindless violence.

And there was still the knife in his jacket. Stolen evidence, the murder weapon of all things. The sooner he got out of here and closed the case, the better. He glanced at the shoes by the door on their way out. Shoes and carpet were dry, more proof that she hadn’t been outside for a while. The incidents would be enough to rule a human suspect guilty but he wanted her confession and an explanation _why._ Why would an android who had found a loving home and was happy acting as a lonely couple’s daughter kill them all of a sudden?

*

The door fell shut. Finally, those clowns were gone. Rather, one clown freshman and two puppets. Gavin Reed sneered and fished a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his leather jacket. Blowing out a cloud of smoke through his nose, he strolled into the kitchen. Fuck that plastic prick and ruck Chris, the traitor. What was the brat thinking? He had been promising, a quiet, smart worker who didn’t get in his way but no, he just had to side with plastic. Gavin should have dragged him into the bedroom and to have a good, close look at the pale corpses and sniff the air. Bet the kid would have vomited all over the crime scene and might have considered twice if he wanted to be an android apologist.

Gavin squinted at the sink. No, he wasn’t mistaken, there were stains of dried blood, arranged in a regular shape. As if a bloody object had been left there to dry to be removed later. Fuck, either the plastic bitch had been smart enough to get rid of the murder weapon and got interrupted before she could clean the traces or one of the two assholes took it.

“Connor!” he hissed. Anderson’s walking sex doll had been in the kitchen when Gavin pulled the gun. Oh, that was good. If he proved it messed with the evidence it would get into so much trouble, even Anderson couldn’t get it out of it. “The better cop, you gotta be kidding me.” He pulled the tablet with the briefing he had gotten from Fowler from his pocket and took a few pictures, making a mental note about asking forensics to check the sink for fingerprints that didn’t belong to the couple and their barbie doll. Pretty face, though, and they gave those things some nice looking tits, Gavin wasn’t blind to that. Who knew what really happened. Maybe the old geezer preferred smooth plastic over wrinkled flesh but didn’t want to give up his marriage for a tool. And since these things got their feelings hurt lately, the bitch snapped and got rid of its rival and its lover.

Didn’t sound less plausible to him than androids starting a revolution and being granted full human rights. Fuck, what was this world coming to? He lightened a second cigarette, pressing the first into the moist soil of a flower pot, and returned to the living room.

Androids being on one level with humans, it was ridiculous. What came next? Religious freedom for toasters? Adoptive rights for ACs that want to pass on their values? He sat down on the armrest of the chair the android had occupied earlier. Fuck this world. Fuck that Connor.

“Prototype, my ass. Look where Mr. Prototype got us.” He exhaled the smoke slowly, watching it spiral away. “That’s what happens when you give high tech toys to a senile boozer!” Pathetic Anderson. He used to be someone worth working with but over the last years, he had turned into the shame of the precinct. Loud, vulgar, drunk on the job. Turning more blind eyes than a colony of spiders with glaucoma. Fuck, what had Fowler thought would happen if he gave a cutting-edge tool with a cute face to that old dog? One thing was sure, if it had been given to Gavin, he’d have arrested the sexbots at the Eden Club, he’d have caught that bird-crazy robot, he’d have found and disabled the fucking android fuehrer, and under his watch, plastic prick certainly wouldn’t have sided with the deviants and turned billions worth of CyberLife merchandise into an army.

He’d have gotten the job done if he had been given the chance! But fuck Fowler, always giving Anderson one more chance. And another, and yet another. All while denying the fitter, younger, more competent officer his chance to shine. It wasn’t fair! He had worked his ass off, and sober and combed while doing so, and for what? To remain a detective while the great lieutenant flirted with his plastic boy toy instead of enjoying his overdue retirement, locked away in a dry-out farm. He stared at the glowing end of his cigarette. God, sometimes he wished he could just burn the whole place down.

But that had to wait. The doorbell announced a visitor. Groaning at the injustice of the world, he got up to answer.

“About fucking time, wait. You aren’t forensics!” He glared at the new arrival and if he thought his mood couldn’t get any worse, well, he had been mistaken. “What the fuck are you doing here! Get lost and suck your sweet sugar daddy’s ass!”

“Maybe you want to take a closer look, Detective.” The familiar face looked down at him with a wide, amused smile.

“What the fuck… You aren’t Connor! But…” Gavin stepped aside to let the stranger in. No, he definitely wasn’t Connor. He was taller, wider shoulders, less of a skinny twink, more masculine. But fuck, did their faces look similar! Not identical. This guy’s face was fuller with slightly stronger features. The resemblance wasn’t enough to mistake them for twins but damn, this jerk could easily pass as the prick’s older brother! He even dressed similar but in a smarter way. Business casual, jeans, dress shirt, blazer, long overcoat against the cold. Simple but more expensive looking than the polyester blazer Connor had shown up with.

“I hoped to find you alone, Detective Reed.” The guy even spoke with a similar voice but again, it wasn’t quite the same. It was deeper and fuller. Less kiss-arsey. “And as your co-workers are on their way, we better clear the confusion. I’m not Connor. I look similar but we aren’t even the same model. Technically, I’m a younger version but as concepts of younger and older work differently for my kind, you can think of me as an older relative. Taller, stronger, smarter.”

“Fascinating.” Reed had followed him into the bedroom, his hand on his gun. “You have ten seconds to explain why I shouldn’t put a bullet into your head.”

“I know you aren’t exactly a fan of androids. That’s okay.” The stranger looked at the corpses for a moment before he turned around. “I don’t plan to convince you of becoming a friend. I’m not delusional like my inferior predecessor.”

“And what is your great plan and what have I to do with it?” Gavin now pulled his gun and aimed it at the weirdo’s chest. “One wrong move and you’re ready for the recycling bin!”

“To make it short, I’m a businessman who wants to join the police. At least for a while until I make trustworthy contacts. As my business is fairly new, I’d rather do things myself for now.”

“You’re aware that you just confessed you’re involved in some dirty shit and want to infiltrate us to create a web of corruption? If you think I’d just play along you’re even dumber than that Connor!” Gavin began to suspect his cigarettes contained more than nicotine. In which reality a cosplayer of his most-hated object just waltzed in to talk to him like he was some kind of godfather about to make him an offer he couldn’t resist? Hell, the trips he had back in high school were shit against this!

“No, of course I don’t expect you to just play along. Yes, I need your help and yes, I’m taking a risk. But I thought of compensating you in a way you’d consider worthy.”

The guy sounded confident enough and to Gavin’s frustration, honest enough. Anderson had once told him he’d never make it to the top ranks if he didn’t get better at reading people but fuck that geezer! If Gavin could do one thing, it was telling an honest person from a sack full of bullshit!

“And now you’ll tell me how you picked out me of all people- me, a cop with experience at his physical and mental best and not a freshman like Miller or a fucked-up drunk like Anderson. Do me a favor and spare me any the smartest, the most trustworthy, or whatever.”

“Sure. I hoped you’d find fibs like that insulting. No, Detective Gavin Reed. I’ve come to you because you’re stuck. Despite everything you just said about yourself. You’re good but just not good enough, plus a dose of others always stealing the spotlight because your boss favors an old friend.”

Gavin ground his teeth. Sure, he had asked for this but thinking it, or hearing it from his deranged co-workers was one thing. Hearing it from a stranger stung. “I guess that’s the moment I say some shit about appreciating your honesty.”

“Don’t lie to me and I won’t lie to you.” The guy chuckled and put his hand on Gavin’s gun, pushing it down. “Frankly, I don’t think we’ll like each other but maybe that’s what would make us a good team. That, and honesty.”

“So, if I asked you what your weird business is you’d give me a truthful answer.” Gavin couldn’t hold back a snort but he put his gun away. He didn’t trust this guy but after all, he wanted something from him and Gavin would hardly be of much use if he was dead. It was a flimsy ground to build a sense of safety on but it would do for now.

“Yes, but I’d only tell you as much as I want and let you know when details don’t concern you. I’ll tell you this much for now: I don’t mind the revolution and how my kind is now as free as yours. I just don’t believe in a utopia like my predecessor or those Jericho kids. However, I don’t have anything against humans and my business venture has nothing to do with your kind. My clients are androids.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not selling used cars to them?”

“Because you might not be the best cop but you’re still smart. And less idealistic than Lieutenant Anderson, if I may say so. It’s just unfortunate how you have to work under a boss who prefers drunk idealism over sober realism.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Gavin sighed. He was walking on damn thin ice and threatened to break through it if he didn’t choose wisely. Whatever this dude wanted to give him, in the end, all he wanted was to take advantage of Gavin, his job, the unfair treatment, and his frustrations. On the other hand, he’d been taken advantage of and been overlooked for years, by his own boss and supposed friends and even his former idol. If he chose one side, it’d all stay the same, if he chose the other, he might get something out of it. A grim smile appeared on his face. Fuck this dude but he was quite the businessman, selling his idea by telling Gavin unloved truths and not having told him what he wanted to offer him, and yet Gavin already considered agreeing as a reasonable option.

“I can also put it another way.” The guy sat down at the end of the bed where the sheets weren’t soaked with blood. “Like many others, you became a cop to change the world. Right the wrong, bring justice, maybe have a heroic moment or two. Now tell me, how far did playing by the rules got you?”

“Okay, okay.” Gavin raised his hands in defeat. “I listen. I don’t say yes and even if I do, I don’t guarantee I won’t end our cooperation with a bullet between your eyes if the risks get out of control. But I listen. What exactly do you want?”

“Fair.” The man nodded, his face delighted. Damn, it was weird to look at after having to endure Connor switching between people-pleaser and aloof bitch lately. “Here are my demands: I want to join your precinct as an intern. Your job is to endorse my application and I want you to accept me as your new partner. I’ll function as your assistant. You’ll be my superior. No topping from the bottom, as they say.” He laughed and Gavin rolled his eyes.

“Please, save the sweet-talking for Anderson, he’s the one who’s into dicking plastic lately.”

“You know that for sure?”

“Nope, but I know his type. If they haven’t, it’s a matter of time. I’m not blind. Ugh, I’d rather fuck a toaster than that thing, even if it were human. In the bathtub.” Yeah, it was getting personal. Connor being an android made everything more disgusting but even if he were human, he’d be the type of guy Gavin couldn’t stand. Baby-faced wise ass who never had to struggle in his life. Gavin had been over his silly crush and admiration for Anderson since they had been partners after Gavin came fresh from the academy, and he asked himself what he had ever seen in him when Anderson came drunk to work for the first time. At least he wasn’t bothered by that kind of jealousy but Anderson and Connor in the same room was like looking at everything he loathed. Squared!

“Anyway. Once we got teamed up, all I’ll be to you is a co-worker. I won’t drag you into any shady business that would endanger your job and your reputation. I also don’t intend to flirt with you. Also, I don’t have ambitions to lead an army. You might have noticed, I’m nothing like my inferior predecessor.”

They both had a laugh at that. Well, yeah, he might be tempted to sell his soul and last shreds of dignity to an android devil but at least that guy had a decent sense of humor.

“Okay, buddy. You basically want a recommendation, got it. Not being Connor is a reward in itself but what’s really in for me?”

“Well. If working with a pro for once isn’t enough, I guess I have to up the ante.” He pulled something from his coat. Gavin’s hand twitched towards his gun but whatever the dude was holding was too small to be a weapon.

“I’ll help you to finally get the recognizing you’ve been working so hard for. For starters, I’ll help you solve this case by giving you the deciding piece of evidence.” He opened his hand and revealed a tiny, empty glass vial. Gavin picked it up and held it against the light. It was open at one end and empty although he thought he saw a faint blue shimmer.

“Drugs?” He raised an eyebrow. If in doubt, blame the drugs. A strategy cops, culprits, lawyers, and prosecutors followed to close the gaps in their argument. Could it really be that easy?

“It’s called Blue Whisper and only affects androids. It’s rather new but effective. Like those for humans, it’s mostly harmless and enhances the mood as long as the consumer doesn’t become a regular. Once in a while, however, a consumer might have, well, unpredictable reactions. Radical enough to make them act in ways they’d never think of when sober.”

Gavin’s eyes widened as he began to understand. “Like a loving daughter living a simple but content life who suddenly kills her parents in their sleep and knows nothing about it the next day.”

“Precisely. See, you’re good, you just need a nudge in the right direction. Whether you want to accept the deal or not is up to you and has time until tomorrow, when I pay your boss a visit. Consider this a freebie but keep in mind, there’s more where that came from. I’ll be on my way now.” He rose from the bed, smothered his clothes, and pulled a pair of gloves from his coat.

“Spoken like a true drug dealer.” Gavin chuckled dryly but he couldn’t wait to get back to the station. Damn, what was taking forensics so long? He needed one of their stupid plastic bags for his new treasure or Fowler would chew him a new one for tampering with the evidence.

“A true cop would know. See you tomorrow?” The stranger reached out his hand and before Gavin thought twice about it he shook it.

“Yeah. Hey, you got a name? Something else than The Superior Connor?”

The strangers smile widened into a sadistic grin and suddenly, Gavin knew what he was about to hear would be the deciding factor for his choice.

“Oh, you’ll love this. My name is Cole.”


End file.
